Rise of the Northern Lights
by sborden491
Summary: Having joined forces with Skye and Jack Savage to find the mysterious lynx who shot Nick, the WildeHopps now find themselves tied to the ancient Kataiahs Lysander, the founder of Zootopia, as he strives to prevent disaster when both nature and Mammaldom itself seem bent on driving intelligent mammals to extinction. This is the continuation of Back From Where We Came.
1. The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

**Here is the first installment.**

**I included a brief rundown, from Nick's perspective, which means it is what he knows. I will add other versions from different characters as we move along.****I hope you enjoy Part Two of this story.**

**Let me know what you think.**

* * *

_7:05 AM_

Waking from nightmares in the middle of the night was the price of doing something really stupid, like chasing an unknown subject with a long head start down a dark, rainy alley, or mouthing off when they have the drop on you until they shoot you.

Or both.

Finally coming face to face with that unknown subject, over a month later, appeared to have given Nick enough closure to sleep through the night for the first time since he was shot. Of course, going to sleep at 3:00 AM might also have something to do with it, the yawning fox mused. He sat, looking down at his mate sleeping next to him, her nose twitching adorably.

They were in Judy's room at the Hopps Farm in Bunnyburrow, sunlight creeping in through the curtains, bringing up the last few days to mind. Yep. Only a few days ago, Nick had no idea how strange the world could truly be. He was just a con-mammal who had gone—was going—straight because of a beautiful bunny doe named Judy Hopps, and now he had to find a way to save the world. He sighed. Definitely not your typical work week, even for a ZPD officer on the fast track.

He smiled. That stupidity had also brought immense joy, reuniting him with the closet thing he had to a sister, Cynthia Big, the adopted daughter of Antonio "Mr." Big, who now went by the mononym, Skye. She worked at the ZIA, with her... mate... Wow. Little Cynthia, mated—to a bunny, no less. _Guess I did have an effect, after all,_ Nick thought with amusement.

Skye and Jack Savage, co-heads of the ZIA's Independent Operations division, had been monitoring activity at a building where Nick and Judy responded to a break-in that fateful night he was shot. Reading the ZPD after-action report, they realized Nick had come face to face with a mysterious figure they had only theorized existed from analyzing mountains of data. Someone who had been systematically working behind the scenes for years, manipulating scientists, politicians, and others, towards some unknown end. But this manipulation appeared to many governments as a plot to advance the interests of Zootopia and its allies, straining international relations to the brink of world war.

Seeking out the police couple for leads, Jack and Skye visited ZPD headquarters, where Nick and Skye saw each other for the first time in more than ten years. Nick had thought her dead, and she had thought Nick long lost—certainly not a police officer. Their emotional meeting was interrupted when they found themselves under surveillance, so the four agreed to meet at Jack Savage's apartment that night.

On the way there, Nick had to shake two raccoons following them by ducking into the infamous Frisky Kitties Night Club, the only way out of which was for couples to... perform... in front of a discreetly hidden audience (he was still on thin ice with Judy over that one.) Making it to Jack's apartment, Nick saw a replica of a painting, where the mammal who had shot him stood exquisitely depicted by one of Mammaldom's most famous artists, Lionardo DaVinni—four thousand years ago. Their unknown mammal's name was Kataiahs Lysander, a lynx they now knew was more than ten thousand years old... Nick shook his head, still coming to grips with that.

They spent that tense night at Jack's apartment because of the tail Nick and Judy had shaken, with Jack and Skye insisting their apartment needed to be checked for security reasons before they could return. The following morning, a newspaper photograph of Kataiahs sent Skye to the Plainsville Institute of Technology while Nick and Judy came face to face with their tails from the night before, when morning call at the precinct identified two raccoons that had been beaten and roughly delivered to Canal District Memorial Hospital. The raccoons invoked Diplomatic Immunity and refused to speak after they saw Nick and Judy.

Judy's trusty carrot-pen had recorded the encounter and they took the device to the ZIA's Zootopia Field Office for Jack's mammals to translate. While there, the team Jack had dispatched to check out Nick and Judy's apartment triggered a bomb meant for the ZPD couple but managed to get out and evacuate the building with no casualties.

In the meantime, Skye had drawn a blank on her lead at the Institute, then been called into the office of the local ZIA head, Operations Director Arthur Foxworth, an old supervisor and almost lover. The older fox had been agitated at her presence, eventually revealing alarm at her investigating the Institute, and tried to have her captured. Skye escaped, sending a message to Jack that the branch was compromised, and she needed covert extraction. She spent the rest of the day desperately evading pursuit.

Her message reached Jack right after the explosion of Nick and Judy's apartment, sending Jack into crisis mode. Caution made him question the integrity of anyone not in his immediate circle, so he called Mayor Lionheart and ZPD Chief Bogo to inform them of the situation. It was decided to let the public believe Nick and Judy perished in the blast so they could flush out anyone who might be working with the Baratean Intelligence Ministry.

With few mammals available that either Jack or Skye could trust, Judy and Nick were left to lead a daring nighttime rescue of the vixen off the Plainsville coast under fire of the local ZIA reaction force. They returned their friend, not to Zootopia, but to the one place no one would soon look: Skye's estranged father's, Mr. Big's, estate. A tearful reunion brought added information, as Mr. Big had paid a... business call... on the two raccoons in the hospital, revealing the bomb in Nick and Judy's apartment had been planted, not by foreign spies, but by rogue ZIA agents, reinforcing their idea of widespread ZIA corruption.

In a panic after Skye's escape, Arthur Foxworth issued an alert naming Skye as a rogue agent, leading to a Commonwealth-wide shoot-to-kill order for the vixen. This meant the Big's estate was no longer safe and Skye would need to go into hiding. Judy had a plan: Take Skye, along with herself and Nick, to hide at the Hopps Farm in Bunnyburrow.

Skye had actually been feeling unwell for some time, possibly pregnant she thought during her escape (although several pregnancy tests had been inconclusive.) Once safe at the Hopps Farm, the vixen suffered from a severe hemorrhage that could have been a miscarriage, so Judy and her sisters took the vixen into Bunnyburrow to see the doctor. The doctor they ended up seeing turned out to be Skye's regular doctor visiting from Zootopia, and none other than Kataiahs Lysander, himself, hiding behind a hospital mask.

Kataiahs revealed the vixen was, indeed, expecting kits, and that he had secretly preformed a procedure on Skye allowing her to get pregnant from Jack. While angry at having the procedure done without her consent, the vixen was still incredibly happy to be expecting Jack's kits. This prompted Judy to invite the lynx to the Hopps Farm to explain the newfound possibilities of interspecies couples to bear young to the other members of her family involved in mixed-species relationships.

That had been last night.

Just before Kataiahs revealed the truth about Mammaldom's origins. Before he revealed intelligent mammals were quickly becoming extinct. Before he let them know that, at any moment, some Prehistoric Doomsday Killer Robots could wake up and annihilate all living things on the planet. Before they realized someone had a device out there guaranteed to wake those robots up. And now they had to find him and recover the device: A virtually undetectable thermonuclear bomb.

_Oh, yeah_, Nick thought. _What a great morning..._

* * *

_8:10 AM_

Stu Hopps was furious. Finally, a morning he could... sleep in... with Bonnie and the phone starts ringing off the hook at the crack of dawn. Which he wouldn't have minded so much except that they were all reporters, asking all sorts of questions that they shouldn't be.

But mostly he was heartbroken that one of his brood would have betrayed the Clan in such a manner. Watching the early news broadcast on their TV, the picture displayed with the story could only have been taken by a family member.

Bonnie recognized the picture. Now she was left with the decision of what to do about it as she watched her husband pace about the room, fuming. Stu caught her expression and thirty years of marriage revealed what it meant.

"You know who did it," he said, crossing his arms.

Bonnie fidgeted. "I might recognize the picture," she said, evading the question.

"Margaret," Stu huffed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "That doe has a mean streak in her. I thought it was just bad feelings with Elena, but this goes beyond that."

"Now, Stu," Bonnie said, trying to soften things, though she knew it was pointless. "We don't know she sent in that picture."

"This is serious, Bonnie," Stu said, not having any of that. "You saw what they said. They could have shot Skye! They could have destroyed this Clan for harboring a fugitive!"

"Skye isn't a fugitive, Stu," Bonnie reminded him.

"They didn't know that!" he said, waving at the TV. "The Feds could have laid siege to the farm looking for her!"

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic," Bonnie said.

"Melo—Bonnie," he said a bit too loud, a sign of how angry he was, then toned down his voice. "Sorry, hon. But, don't you think the other Clans will know it was one of our own who did this? What happens then? Who will trust a Hopps after something like this?"

He had her with that one. Clan loyalty was one of those sacred things to rabbits since the mythical First Clan. The Clan whose members were not loyal to it was not trusted by anyone, so strict discipline was expected to be enforced. The Hopps Clan's entire social standing could be jeopardized by a betrayal on this scale, where even a guest under their protection had been betrayed.

Bonnie hated to admit it, but Stu was right: Margaret had gone too far and jeopardized the entire Clan. She hung her head down, tears clouding her eyes. Stu sighed, coming over to the bed to give his pregnant wife a warm hug; she was a sensitive doe, despite the tough-as-nails facade.

"We'll let the Clan decide, sweetheart," he said, tenderly stroking her downturned ears. "She'll get a chance to say her peace, then we'll act as a group and accept whatever outcome is decided."

Expulsion was the most severe punishment in this enlightened time, though the occasional killing had been known to take place in some of the more fundamentalist Clans in the boonies. Bonnie sobbed, nodding her head. It was a fair path to take.

* * *

_8:30 AM_

_"Morning, Jack,"_ came Matilda's voice over his secure phone. _"About time you woke up."_

"Morning, Director," Jack said, yawning. "What time is it?"

_"Not late enough, apparently," _the sheep laughed. _"Did you get any sleep?"_

"I guess a couple of hours," he said, looking down at Skye, snoring softly. "I'm going to be a father."

_"Congratulations!"_ Matilda said, surprised. _"Who's the lucky doe?"_

"Skye," Jack said. "We're having kits."

_"...How is that... possible… Jack?"_ came the skeptical question. _"Not that I don't believe you,"_ she added, quickly. _"I know better with you two."_

"It was a very interesting evening, Matty," Jack said.

Matilda laughed. _"You have no idea,"_ she said. _"Wait until you see the Morning News."_

Jack cringed. "How bad?"

_"Pretty much all out,"_ she told him. _"Even got a picture of Skye and Judy together taken yesterday at the Hopps farm."_

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, waking Skye up.

_"Gets better,"_ Matilda said drolly, while Jack put her on speakerphone for Skye to listen. _"Labtierre Provincial Police reports they have the murdered body of Arthur Foxworth at a tourist hotel right across the Bunnyburrow border."_

"Murdered?" Skye asked, stretching. "How?"

_"Stabbed in the back and set on fire in a rental car," _Matilda said. _"I hear congratulations are in order, Skye."_

The vixen smiled. "Thanks, Matilda," she said. "You will come to the wedding, I hope."

The sheep chuckled. _"Wouldn't miss it for the world,"_ she said. She gave the waking couple a rundown of the night's events and a summary of the news reports. _"Now, what do **you** call 'serious trouble' compared to all that?"_

Jack sighed. "I guess you _officially_ still work for us until Monday," he said. "We don't believe Arthur is dead. Has Rammstein made it back yet?"

_"About two hours ago,"_ Matilda said. _"I'm told he locked himself in the break room to get some sleep."_

"Well," Jack said, chuckling, "I might as well let you know, then, since we are going to need your help more than ever."

_"You're not making feel warm inside, Jack,"_ she said.

"We have a Fifth Protocol violation," he told her, eliciting several choice words from the sheep. "Yes. Apparently, Arthur was seriously involved with this Tonya Ryzhaya vixen, and arranged for her to use the High Energy Lab at the PIT. Two undetectable thermonuclear devices were produced, one of which is missing with Arthur, who we believe is taking it to Baratea."

_"Damn!"_ Matilda exclaimed. _"Octavio and what we now believe is his family just boarded an airship for Aurora!"_ She briefed them on what had she had just read from their Baratean Embassy contact concerning Octavio's suddenly-large family circle.

"Good for them," Skye said, smiling. "We might even be able to trade for the device."

_"With what?"_ Matilda asked.

"Kits," the vixen said.

* * *

_8:35 AM_

Chief Bogo stomped into the precinct, making a beeline for his office. Having heard the various news broadcasts, most of the officers on duty could guess why the water buffalo was in on Saturday and stayed out of his way. Clawhauser sat at the dispatch desk, having been called in by the Chief an hour ago, looking a little apprehensive as the Chief passed by.

"Wasn't me, Chief," the cheetah quickly said. The chief huffed, mumbling under his breath as took the stairs to his office.

"Clawhauser!" Bogo called from the top. "My office!"

The portly feline waddled up the stairs, stopping at the midpoint landing to huff and puff, then made it to the Chief's office, paws on his knees, catching his breath. The Chief waited patiently for his officer to recover.

"You really need to get in shape, Benjamin," the Chief said. The cheetah nodded, panting. "Going to be a busy weekend for us, unfortunately. Feds should be stopping by soon to coordinate more arrests and searches, so get everyone with Detective training in here. The Mayor has already authorized the overtime. Get the District Commanders on a conference call ASAP, since I only want to do this briefing once. You have all the notes arranged?" The cheetah nodded, having been privy to the situation from the beginning. "Good. Get them out to the Commanders. No one talks to the Press. Got it? Mayor's already in a tizzy over the leak about the WildeHopps. And get me those two on the secure phone."

"Should I... cancel the... funeral?" puffed the cheetah. The Chief stared at him, impassively. "Cancel, it is," the feline said, waddling away to get his work done.

The Chief thought about asking him for a cup of coffee, then decided it was faster to get it himself, reaching for his cup. Inside his bottom desk drawer, the scrambling device Jack had left him flickered, then glowed an ominous red, making the Chief catch his breath. Somebody was hacked into his office's surveillance camera, watching him.

The Chief gave no visual indication he was aware of this, gruffly getting up to go fill his quart-size mug with whatever disaster might be masquerading as coffee on a Saturday morning.

This case was far from closed.

* * *

_8:40 AM_

Judy lay panting hard against Nick's chest, clasping his fur tightly in her paws, eyes wide with surprise. His knot held them together for their mandatory cuddle time as Nick stroked her back tenderly, nuzzling her head absently, more than a little shocked at the intensity of their unplanned tryst. Judy had taken one of the pills Kataiahs had given her last night, after reading the simple instructions:

_One pill, every other day, after waking, for one month. Best when used with mate nearby._

She had laughed at the last part, showing Nick the instructions. Nick had already been awake, stroking her ears, and raised his eyebrows at the words. Five minutes after swallowing the innocent looking pink pill, she became a bunny possessed, pouncing on her mate with blind lust, a fire Nick desperately had to quench-twice.

"Are you back?" Nick asked, gently with a hint of anxiety.

"I think so," Judy panted. "Did I just..."

"Mercilessly ravage me?" Nick chuckled. "Twice. Didn't know you had it in ya, Fluff. Coulda warned a guy, you know." She punched him lightly.

"Did you..." she asked, timidly, "enjoy it?"

"... she says, locked on my knot," he teased, nuzzling her. "I doubt I could handle this for more than a month, Fluff. It was _really_ intense. How about you? You didn't seem aware of anything but my... you know."

"It was like being on fire," she said, quietly, mesmerized almost. "With only one way to put it out. It was... frightening... then, when you put that fire out... wow... It was a relief, like nothing I've experienced before..." She cuddled closer to her mate for reassurance.

"So," he said, stroking her ears, "you enjoyed it."

"I endured it," she said, shaking. "If you hadn't been here... I... don't know, Nick. I think I would have found another male. Any male. All I could think about was putting out the fire, you know?"

"I'll always be here for you, Fluff," he said, tenderly, then chuckled. "But I think I had better hang on to those pills. Can't have you confusing them with aspirin at the precinct, then jumping Clawhauser or the Chief after PT." She slapped him playfully.

"You know you love me," he said.

"Not with one of those pills in me, Slick," she said. Their secure phone rang, and Judy reached in vain for it. Nick winced as her effort yanked on his knot, still lodged in tight. "OK," she said. "You get it."

Nick chuckled, reaching over for the phone. He showed the number to Judy before answering it on speakerphone. "Hey, Chief, miss us?" he said, cheerfully.

_"Can it,"_ game the buffalo's gruff voice. _"You're on TV." _Judy tried—and failed—to reach the remote, still tightly bound to her mate. Nick chuckled, handing her the control and, sure enough, there was the picture of her and Skye taking up the entire display. Judy surprised both the Chief and her mate with her choice of words.

_"I take it you know where the picture came from,"_ the Chief laughed.

"My soon-to-be-dead sister," Judy said.

"Do you want us back in Zootopia, Chief?" Nick asked.

_"No,"_ Bogo said. _"It's going to be a three-ring circus for a few days around the precinct, especially if you two are here, and we're busy wrapping up this Ryzhaya/ Packland mess. What I want you to do is head over to Labtierre and work with the Provincial Police in recovering the body of Arthur Foxworth and whatever evidence they might share with you."_

"I doubt it's him, Chief," Judy said. "From what we've heard about him, it's a decoy."

_"That's why I want you over there to bring back what you can,"_ the Chief said. _"Nobody who knew that fox believes it's him, but we need the evidence back here to say for certain. They won't let ZBI or ZIA across the border, but they'll let ZPD send a team. That's you two."_

"We don't have our Detective badges yet," Nick reminded the Chief.

_"You finished the training and passed the exams," _Bogo huffed. _"That's good enough for me."_

"When do we get the pay raise?" Nick quipped. Bogo laughed.

_"You're still officially dead,"_ he said, drolly. _"You'll be lucky if you even get paid this month."_ Nick's ears went flat.

"We still have our uniforms and IDs, Chief," Judy said. "It's all we have, really."

_"Expense out some clothes,"_ Bogo told them. _"I'm sure Lionheart will sign off on it—if you keep it reasonable."_

"No Armandi suits, got it," Nick said.

_"And tell Savage that jammer was glowing red in my office a short while ago," _the Chief said. _"So, we'll keep using the secure phones."_

"Got it, Chief," Judy said, frowning at the news about the jammer. "We'll keep in touch." The phone went dead.

"We all thought Kataiahs was the one surveilling us," Judy said, "and he's here. So, who hacked into the Chief's office camera?"

Nick shrugged. "Let's go ask the _Ancient One_," he said, ominously, while ruffling her ears. "I'm getting hungry, anyway. Been working hard all morning, you know."

"Har, har," Judy said, moving tentatively to be sure they were unstuck this time. She looked at the remains of the bedding set. "What a mess."

"What do you expect when wild bunnies attack?" he teased, tickling her. She squealed and hopped off the bed, heading to the shower.

"You know you loved it," she purred, blowing him a kiss. He laid back on the pillow, arms crossed under his head.

"Yes," he murred. "Yes, I did."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**There it is.**

**The first installment. Hope you enjoyed it. I was going to add more stuff, but it was taking too long and I wanted to just get started.****Let me know what you think.**

**As an extra: What was your favorite chapter in Part One?**

**Until next time,**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Cracks

**Author's Note:**

**Thanks for everyone's comments. Special thanks to my friend Salty_Kitsune for helping out with the editing.**

**Here is the next installment,**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

8:41_ AM_

"You hateful little furball!" Elena shouted, banging her paws against the wall. "What is going through that spiteful space between your ears you call a mind?"

Reggie watched his bunny with amusement. Not that the situation was funny. The naked doe ranting to the wall, however... She had thrown clothes, pillows, blankets and insults non-stop since she had seen the photo on the TV news broadcast, to the point of having to pick up stuff to throw again.

"I think she gets you're mad," he said. She glared back.

"This is totally unacceptable," she said, furiously. "That sorry excuse of a rabbit has threatened the entire burrow with this... this... stunt!" She pounded on the wall again. "For scat knows what reason, you scrawny little twa—!"

Reggie scooped her up in his arms, holding her close while nuzzling her ears. "Just let it be," he coaxed. "I'm sure your mom and dad will deal with her. There's nothing you can you can do but scream yourself hoarse."

"Why would she do something like this?" She mumbled into his chest. "She's never done anything like this before."

"She must have some reason," he reckoned, stroking her ears. "Maybe she didn't even do it." He nuzzled her ears. "Wouldn't _that_ be embarrassing after all that ranting?"

Elena giggled slightly. "I guess," she admitted. "But I know she did…" Reggie kissed her.

"We'll just let your parents deal with it," he told her. "We have other things to worry about."

Elena thought back on the evening's discoveries, her own role in them, and shuddered. "What are we going to do, Reggie?" she said, worriedly. "That bomb is out there. How are we supposed to get it back?" He chuckled.

"We'll handle it," he declared. "Jack and Skye are very good at this stuff. We just have to help with what we can." His face lit up. "I have an idea." He looked into her eyes, smiling. "Why don't you come work with me?" Elena flinched a bit.

"Me?" she said. "A spy?"

"Well, I was thinking more as a lab geek," he mused. "You know, give that smart head of yours a chance to work on important stuff." He nuzzled her. "Us nerds have to stick together, you know."

"Not just serve coffee and type reports?" she asked, skeptically. "Real Engineering?"

"Best believe it, bunny," he assured her. "No way would I let that mind of yours go to waste." Elena's eyes sparkled in the sunlight flooding the room.

"Oh, Reggie!" she said, forgetting everything but the fox holding her. "Come to yoah bunny!"

* * *

_8:45 AM_

Margaret finished packing her single bag, sniffling. She didn't really have much she wanted to take with her. She had few clothes, preferring to wear the same tried and true outfits, and not many of those at that. She did, of course, pack her most valued possession: The prized blue sash and Miss Bunnyburrow Harvest medal from three years ago when Elena had broken her arm, all on her own, and couldn't compete.

It was time to leave the nest, anyway, the doe thought. Her family was becoming more perverted as the years went by, not as a passing fad, either, or as an exception for that weirdo, Judy. No. Nowadays, her parents went as far as actively encouraging her siblings to find happiness with whatever species tickled their fancy. She laughed bitterly. Jemina was seeing a bear and Jethro, well, Jethro was sleeping with a porcupine of all things!

She shook her head. She didn't believe for one moment that slut, Skye, could be one of the good mammals. Any mammal who would accuse an adorable buck of breeding some disgusting, cross species mutt couldn't be good. Especially _her_ buck, that adorable Jack, obviously a refined mammal of impeccable taste, who would never be such a deviant as to knock up some kinky vixen. No. The news had obviously been wrong about that. Skye was dirty. She was filthy. Unclean.

Margaret looked around the room one last time, with just a hint of trepidation. There was no going back now. Her family was no longer respectable, and the only way for her to look at herself in the mirror was to renounce them. She would miss some of her siblings, but that's what phones were for.

_"OH, MY SWEET FOX! YOU GOT IT, BEBY! RAHT THEAH...RAHT THEAH...YOAH BUNNY IS COMING HOME... SHE'S CO...MMMMNNN...NGGHHHH...Hmmm... nnmmmg…hoh...hmmmm...OH, MAH GOODNESS! OH, MAH GOODNESS! THAT THING ALWAYS SUPRAHSES ME...OH, MAH GOODNESS! NNMMMNGGH...NNNNNGHHMM... Reggie, you darlin little fox, you…"_

Margaret stared at the vent. "Ughhh!" She exclaimed, furiously, then left the room, slamming the door shut behind her and heading for the garage. She ignored the stares and muttered comments, endured the insults and hostility from her relatives, finally making it to her car, throwing her bag in the passenger seat, and driving off. As she was losing sight of the burrow in the rearview mirror, she saw her father running after her, then give up and… and… spit on the ground? _Ughhh! Good riddance!_

Luckily the gates opened automatically whenever a family car approached because the doe was paying no attention to anything at all but the perceived slights her family had inflicted upon her. She nearly ran over a reporter, who jumped hastily out the way as she zoomed past him onto the main road, heading away from town.

* * *

_9:10 AM_

Breakfast was subdued in the kitchens, to say the least. Even The Kerfuffle sensed the general mood and ate their food quietly, looking around anxiously at the adults, wondering what was wrong. Stu gruffly made his way to the head table, taking his place next to Bonnie. He was having a hard time looking at Skye and Judy, sitting next to their mates further down the table. Kataiahs, with Trina next to him, looked sympathetically at the flustered buck.

"You do know you cannot take responsibility for the actions of everyone in the burrow, right, Stu?" he told the patriarch. The rabbit sighed heavily.

"I would like to believe I can handle my own offspring," he said, simmering.

"Well," the lynx said, encouragingly, "one troubled kit out of two hundred seventy six is a pretty remarkable achievement by anyone's reckoning."

"She just drove off," Stu complained, ignoring the compliment, gesturing with his paws. "Didn't even look back." Bonnie was staring down at her plate, not touching her food. Stu looked guiltily at his mate. "You need to eat, Hon," he pleaded. "This isn't the end of the world. Margaret will be fine"

Elena and Reggie came in last, taking seat at the head table because of Reggie being a guest. Elena was on the warpath, looking around and staring at Margaret's empty place.

"Where _is_ that little troublemaker?" she asked no one in particular. Bonnie sniffled. "What's the matter, Mama?"

"Margaret left," Stu told her, wrapping an arm around his wife.

"Why that little-" Elena started, then stopped when Bonnie sobbed. "Momma, Margaret's always been like this. You know it." Elena's voice had toned down, but wasn't yielding in any way. "She's always been mean to me, but this time…" Reggie stroked her shoulders, trying to calm her down.

Judy looked at her plate, wishing she could speak her peace like Elena, but she knew her mom would take it hard. Bonnie had tried so hard to reach Margaret over the years, and probably felt like a complete failure right now, irrational as that may be.

"Margaret's an adult, Mom," Nick said, softly. "She's made decisions, for whatever reason, to do what she's done. We need to respect her choices, even if we don't agree with them. After things cool down a bit, I'm sure we can all sit down and work things out." Stu obviously didn't agree, but understood what his son-in-law was doing, so kept quiet. Bonnie, hiccuped, looking at Nick.

"You're right, Nicholas," she said, wiping her nose. "She is a grown bunny. We'll just wait until she cools off and comes home. I'm sure we can get to the bottom of this. Everyone, go on. Eat your breakfast."

* * *

_9:16 AM_

"You really should talk to us, Ms. Packland," the slowly pacing ZBI panther said, persuasively, to the stoically silent wolfess sitting cuffed to the interview table. "You're ZIA. You know what happens if we turn you over to them. They really don't like turncoats."

The second agent in the room, a female badger, smiled sympathetically from her chair across the wolfess. "We can't help you if you don't talk to us," she said, sweetly. "I don't know how long I can keep the ZIA out of here without something to show for our effort." Patricia Packland simply stared ahead, eyes impassively on the wall.

"We picked up your entire net," the panther went on, now behind her. "Even Councillor Malery." Patricia's eye twitched almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps you know this fellow," he went on, tossing a picture onto the table of what had been a handsome coyote, but was now a dead body laying on a stainless steel table with a bullet hole in his forehead. The wolfess involuntarily glanced down at the picture, her breath speeding up slightly before she resumed staring at the wall.

"How about this pretty doe?" the panther continued on, sliding a picture of Marcy Deerborne in pawcuffs next to the coyote's. He went on, sliding other pictures in front of her of those mammals who had resisted arrest during the CI sweep. She still kept her cool, relatively speaking, though the panther's predator senses knew she was almost panicked.

The senior agent, the badger, kept a casual eye on Patricia's face, her sympathetic smile never leaving her face. It had taken them four hours to get to this point, mostly waiting for suitable photographs to arrive, but now the suspect was ripe. The badger sighed, tilting her head slightly.

"What I don't understand," she said, curiously, tossing a ZPD case folder in front of the wolfess, pushing the spread-out pictures out of its way, "is why you used your Agency-issued, Woody-22 to murder Tonya Ryzhaya?" Timing is everything, the badger thought.

"That conniving bastard!" Patricia exclaimed, completely losing it with a long string of foul expletives. "I can't believe I let him into my bed! That little maggot!"

The badger glanced at the panther without the wolfess noticing. The panther leaned in, whispering into the wolfess' ear.

"And why should you fry for what he did?" he said, curiously. "He duped you, after all, didn't he?"

"Arthur, that bastard!" Patricia spat. The badger and panther looked at each other.

"Arthur Foxworth?" the badger asked.

"Yeah," Patricia said. "Arthur Friggin Foxworth, ZIA Operations Director."

The badger looked confused. "He's dead," she said to the wolfess. "Murdered in Labtierre last night."

Patricia laughed hysterically, tears coming to her eyes. "Oh, that's precious!" she said, laughing. "Next you'll tell me it's raining cookies and cream."

The panther slid the folder with the Labtierre Provincial Police report in it on the table, open for the wolfess to read.

"Octavio!" She shouted. "That double-crossing—"

"Belyiklyk?" The badger asked, surprised. "Octavio Belyiklyk, the Baratean Trade Attache? He and his family are getting on an airship to Aurora as we speak."

"You're all alone here," the panther whispered, desperately, behind her. "Let us help you."

"We want to help you," the badger reinforced. "We really do. But you need to talk to us. ZIA is breathing down our necks to turn you over, and we both know you don't want that."

"Your operatives don't have your training, or your resolve," the panther insinuated, sorrowfully. "They are not keeping silent. Once the Attorney General believes she's heard enough, there won't be any deals left for you, Patricia. You know how the game is played: You don't want to be the one left standing when the music stops."

The wolfess whined almost inaudibly. "We can get the death penalty off the table if you talk to us," the badger assured, encouragingly. "But once the AG calls time, the ZIA gets their paws on you to extract whatever they can, however they can. You're senior level, Patricia; you know the protocols."

Normally, they would not be able to interrogate a suspect for this long, or without a lawyer present. Counter-Intelligence cases, however, didn't have those restrictions. While ZBI didn't have authority to use chemical interrogation, ZIA did. The agents knew this. So did Patricia. And once started, ending with a functioning mammal was not of primary importance to the interrogators. The Commonwealth took espionage very seriously, though still benign compared to most other nations.

Watching from the other side of the two-way mirror, Marcus saw the wolfess break at last. He had taken the three-hour, non-stop bullet-train from Plainsville to Bunnyburrow, arriving just in time to see this moment. Patricia knew all about ZIA procedures, but obviously little about ZBI's. The two interrogators inside were the best in the Bureau for a reason. They had already dragged more out her than anyone else had with all the others. Patricia had run a superb spy ring, controlling her operatives in cell fashion. None of them knew enough to paint the big picture, let alone give anything worthwhile for the AG to conclude the ring was broken and give up the wolfess. With smoke and mirrors those two had strung Patricia along for a ride down bullcrap lane until enough innuendo could be thrown at her to break her. He texted Matilda to let her know.

* * *

_9:45 AM_

Matilda's phone buzzed.

_Message from: Hot Ram: 09:45 AM: Big bird is singing. Luvya._

The ewe's face took on a decidedly predatory demeanor as she looked through the one-way mirror at the deer doe cuffed to the chair in the adjacent interrogation room with Leone standing nearby, leaning against the far wall, just to ensure nothing went awry. Her phone buzzed again, this time with an email alert. She checked her mail and chuckled. Sweet Marcus to her aid, again. She got up and went into the room, sitting across the table from the doe while Leone locked the door.

"Ten years, Marcy," Matilda said, bitterly. "I've known you ten years, held your hand through a bad divorce; stood by your side when you found that lump in your chest; even drove you to the hospital when your dad passed away. And then you pull a gun on me?" She sighed, with emphasized disappointment. "How long have you been a traitor? How long have you been a snake lying in wait to strike? You're obviously a sleeper, or we would have caught you during the last Security screening."

The deer yawned widely, closing her eyes. Matilda leaned back in the chair, steepling her paws under her chin. "Call me silly," she quipped, "but you have seniority; you were next in line for _my_ job. What could Patricia have on you that you would throw away everything, including our friendship?"

The doe's ear twitched slightly at Patricia's name, but their height difference kept Matilda from noticing. Leone, however, caught it and winked to the ewe. "Patricia's making a deal with the AG right now," the ewe insinuated, enticingly. "Giving you all up for immunity."

The doe didn't react, eyes still closed, so Matilda pulled out her phone, bringing up the file Marcus had just sent, and pressed the play button:

_"Yeah. Arthur Friggin Foxworth, ZIA Operations Director,"_ came Patricia's voice, loud and clear. The effect was immediate as Marcy's eyes shot open.

"That freakin' bitch!" she screamed, staring at the phone. Matilda smiled. Marcus was gonna get some very soon, she promised herself.

* * *

_9:50 AM_

Kataiahs and Trina stayed for their tour of the farm, along with Jack, Skye, and Reggie, seeing as the road outside was blocked by all the news crews wanting an interview with Judy and Nick. Elena, Judy, and Nick went along as guides, giving them all a chance to discuss their plans.

"The Chief is sending us to Labtierre to bring back the evidence in Arthur's murder case," Judy told them. "What should we do?"

Kataiahs grinned. "Bring it all back, of course," he said. "If our suspicions are correct, it will not be him, but it should hopefully give us a starting point to find him."

"Don't forget about the scrambler," Nick piped in.

"Oh, right," Judy remembered. "The Chief said the scrambler turned red this morning. Was that you, Kataiahs?"

The lynx shook his head. "I am afraid not," he told them, concerned. "I did not expect Baratea to have the capability of cracking that device." He looked at Reggie. "That is a very good piece of work," he praised the fox.

"Not if even Baratea can crack it," the tod responded, disappointedly.

"Do not underestimate the Barateans, Mr. Toddwell," the lynx warned. "Many of Mammaldom's top theoretical scientists are Barateans. They might be considered a little backwards by the rest of Mammaldom, but that is entirely by choice. Never forget, the bomb we are looking for was created by one."

"He's right, Reggie," Elena said. "That device is cutting-edge engineering. Not the work of some quack."

"And their Intelligence service is arguably the best in the world," Jack added. "As this Packland mess is revealing."

"Not so admirable when you consider they also created the Slave trade," Skye grumbled.

"My dear Mrs. Savage," Kataiahs said, gravely, "Barateans did not create the Slave trade."

"They have the oldest Slave market in the world," Skye retorted.

"The oldest _operating_ Slave market," Kataiahs clarified. "The Slave trade began in Thestlewich, with the Tuzhei Empire. It is how they managed to _become_ an Empire."

"Rabbits didn't create Slavery," Jack protested. "Why would they do such a thing?"

"Strong labor, Mr. Savage," the lynx told him. "Most History books hide this fact. Had you continued your Doctorate coursework, you would eventually have learned this."

"How do you know about my—" Jack stammered.

"Really, Mr. Savage?" Kataiahs asked, drolly. He went on, "Aptila the Hound was an escaped slave, from a half-feral, Wildlands tribe. He decided to put an end to the Slave raids by eliminating what he thought was the source of the problem: The Tuzhei."

"Guess he was wrong," Nick said.

"Most assuredly, Mr. WildeHopps," the lynx said, disappointedly. "Rabbits are not the source of the Slave problem: Greed is. And that is pandemic to Mammaldom. Once Slavery began, there was no stopping it."

"I always thought Slavery was a predator thing," Judy said. Kataiahs laughed.

"Mrs. WildeHopps," he said. "Predators back then would much rather eat their prey than put them to work building roads and such. Slaves need to be cared for and fed."

"I see your point," Judy conceded.

"Sure explains a lot about your views on housework," Nick mumbled, earning him a slap by his mate's ear.

"So," Judy said. "Nick and I go to Labtierre for Arthur's remains."

"Cynthia and I need to return to Zootopia," Jack said. "There is a lot of clean-up at the Agency, and I need to push the Mayor to get this new operation moving. I don't know how much support we can provide until we know how much damage the Agency suffered."

"We can stop by the estate on the way back," Skye said to Judy. "I am sure Papa can provide some assistance. You two are part of the Family, after all." She took Jack's paw. "It is also time he met my mate." Jack blushed.

"Reggie wants me to go work at the ZIA," Elena said. Jack frowned.

"I don't think that is a good idea right now," he said, looking at Skye. The vixen shook her head, agreeing. "Let's keep you 'off the books' for the time being. I will send you a Confidential Contractor Agreement with the Zootopia Field Office." He entered a memo for that into his phone. "I think the first thing for you to look into is the Scrambler. Reggie knows it better than anyone else; let's see what you two can come up with to make it better. Think outside the box." Elena nodded excitedly, grabbing Reggie's paw.

Kataiahs brought out an envelope, tore it open, and pulled out a blank, Platinum MammalsExpress card and handed it to Judy. The card was peculiar in that it had a small needle tip on one edge. "May I have your thumb?," the lynx asked her. She looked skeptically at him, but held her thumb out. He poked the tip into the skin and twisted the card so that it broke off. Judy pulled her thumb away with a yelp.

"That hurt," she said, licking her finger.

"I've heard about those," Nick said with an impressed whistle. "Registers a DNA sample and embeds an RFID chip into the finger." He looked at the lynx. "What's the limit?" Kataiahs laughed.

"If you try to charge more than ten million at one time, they will call me," he said, smiling. "Just keep in mind that there are not many of these cards in the world, so make sure you are discreet when you use it."

"Don't I get one?" Nick asked, tail wagging slightly. The lynx just tilted his head with a smirk on his face. Nick's ears went flat, mumbling something under his breath.

"As I said before," Kataiahs reminded them, "my resources in the North are limited. So, I have decided it is time for Hometown Female Health to open an office in Aurora. It is a vast, untapped market," he said, sounding purely like a business-mammal, "with some of the most interesting clientele in the world." He smiled. "Sooner or later, we will end up there," he said, "so we might as well prepare in advance. I will give you all my secure link number—yes, I do have a secure phone; I own the company that makes them. We shall keep in touch that way."

"If that covers everything for now," Trina chimed in, sniffing the air; they had made it to the berry gardens. "I believe there are berries that need picking." They all nodded, and merrily went about picking the colorful berries.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**There it is. I hope you enjoyed it. Mostly dealing with fallout from the previous night, which opened a huge can of worms...**

**Let me know your thoughts.**

**Until next time,**

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. The Wrong Road

**Author's Note:**

**Hello, everyone!**

**Hope you enjoyed a good July 4.**

**Next installment is here, as more trouble is uncoverred.**

**Special thanks to my editor/beta reader, Salty_Kitsune!**

**Let me know what you think.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_10:15 AM_

Driving recklessly down the road, mumbling to herself, Margaret realized she had no idea where she was going—or how she was going to survive on her own, for that matter. She screamed in frustration. She was more than a little miffed at Tom; he could have edited the picture so that it wasn't recognizable or, even better, ran the story in such a way that the picture wasn't needed at all.

Going back to the burrow and apologizing to everyone was not an option to the doe, deemed by her as crawling back in defeat. This added to her frustration, until, all of a sudden, she knew what she would do, and turned off the highway, taking a side road back into town. It took her thirty minutes to get there, but she eventually made it to the semi-secluded townhouse where Tom and his roommate, Vince, lived. She parked the car in a guest slot and strode purposefully towards the front door, ringing the doorbell.

She rang twice more before Vince sleepily opened the door. The tall, sloppy-yet-cute brown rabbit was in his underwear, grinning down at her.

"He screwed over you with that picture, didn't he?" the buck chuckled. "He's not back yet. Said he was going out to celebrate."

Margaret barged inside, grabbing him by his chest fur and pushing him against the wall. "I didn't come to see Tom," she purred, kneeling before him while pulling down his underwear. An elderly female prairie dog walking by on the sidewalk gasped and rushed past as the bunny took Vincent in her mouth.

"Holy Scat, Margaret!" the shocked buck groaned, fumbling ineffectively at the door, then giving up completely. His toes curled as he urgently stroked the determined doe's ears and, within a couple of minutes, he emptied himself in her muzzle. He stood, panting, vainly trying to understand what was happening; he had a very poor track record with the ladies and this was beyond his experience, something straight out of Playbunny Magazine.

Margaret wiped him clean with his underwear, then stood up on her tippy-toes, licking her lips. "I need a place to stay," she cooed, kissing him. "My family has turned into a bunch of perverts, and I can't trust anybody else. I've always liked you, Vince, and I now know what a big mistake I made. I should have come to you first, instead of Tom. Can you ever forgive me?" She rubbed her cheek affectionately against his chest.

"S-sure," he mumbled, catching his breath. "You can stay… in my room... if you'd like."

"Oh, that would be _swell_," she purred, fondling him. "Do you have some time to show me where it is? I hardly got any sleep last night because of Tom, and I could use a nap." He nodded, swallowing, forgetting she knew the layout of the house perfectly well. She yawned, slipping her paws under her skirt to take off her panties. "Do you mind if I sleep naked?" she said, tossing the flimsy garment onto the coffee table. "It's so much more comfortable that way."

Vince swatted the front door shut, picking up the doe in his arms and taking her to his room.

* * *

_10:35 AM_

Across the one-way mirror, Patricia Packland heaped disaster upon disaster on Commonwealth politics for years to come. Alone in the darkened observation room, Marcus barely listened anymore as each new name and circumstance mentioned was recorded for deeper investigation. The interrogators expertly guided the interview, asking the right questions at the right time, doubling back circuitously for confirmation, ensuring answers didn't change or contradict. They were methodical, their expertise drawn from years of interrogating Organized Crime suspects, and they paid no attention to the relevancy of the information collected, letting their superiors worry about that.

Those initial fifty suspects picked up overnight were just the tip of the iceberg.

Granted, Marcus expected only about one third to be implicated, but the number of other suspects was growing by the minute. As enough facts were gathered for each new name, a two-mammal team was sent out to pick them up, using the ZBI's extensive database to cross reference the teams vs. suspects as best as possible. Already three more agents had been flagged for questioning.

The door silently swung open, followed by ZBI Director Wolfred Castille, a tough-looking, older grey wolf coming in. "How goes it, Marcus?" The wolf asked.

"It's mind boggling," the ram answered, showing him the growing list of names. The Director sat down across from him, reading with awe. "You didn't have to come in all the way from Zootopia for this, you know," Marcus said. The Director chuckled, looking at the wolfess through the glass.

"She is a magnificent looking female, isn't she?" he said, admiringly. Marcus shrugged.

"Teeth like that make me uncomfortable," the ram laughed. The Director slid the list back across to Marcus.

"Have you ever done something really stupid you wish you hadn't?" he said, almost whispering, to Marcus's growing horror.

* * *

_Twenty months ago_

"Is it him?" Princess Chia yipped excitedly at her friend giddily entering the room and closing the door. "Is it him?" Kasani gripped the white wolfess' shaking paws tightly, nodding vigorously. "Is he handsome?" the Princess asked.

"You know I cannot tell you that, my lady," the red-furred vixen replied, biting her lower lip and smiling widely, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Have you read the contract?" Chia asked, coyly. The vixen giggled.

"Of course I read it," she answered, smugly. "I am supposed to screen all contracts for you, my lady, remember?"

"I cannot believe I am so excited," Chia said, breathlessly. "It is just another marriage contract, after all."

"Perhaps, my lady," Kasani said. "But there are no more challengers left to delay things." The vixen smiled. "What will you do? Will you accept? Do you need more time to decide?" She giggled. "Perhaps my lady is not ready to breed?"

Chia nearly howled at that. "Gracious, no," she growled in frustration. "I am so ripe to be bred, I can hardly sleep at night."

"Is that what those moans are that keep me up all night?" Kasani teased. "A Royal Princess... dreaming… of her Prince?"

Chia blushed, and Kasani gave her a hug. "Your time has come, Chia," she whispered. "You can finally take your place in the Empire." The wolfess snorted.

"I am fifteenth in line, remember?" she whispered back. "The tailhole of the family: That is my place." Kasani winked at the wolfess.

"My lady always told me," she murmured, "that fate has its own way of arranging things."

"Especially when someone determined helps it along," Chia completed. "You will help me, then?"

"You are my dearest friend," Kasani said. "And your vision is true. How could I not? It is also the best chance I have of bringing Arthur back to me."

"We will get him back, regardless," the wolfess chided her friend. "You already have my promise on that."

Kasani laughed softly. "But we have a much better chance of survival if your plans succeed," she said. Chia smiled in acknowledgement.

There was a polite knock on the door. "Yes?" Kasani called out.

"A request for marriage has been received," came the ringing voice of the Royal Commons Headmistress.

"For whom?" Chia shouted, mischievously. There was a pause.

"Well... for.. you, your Highness" came the slightly flustered reply.

"Well, then, why di—" Chia started, but Kasani stopped her, giggling.

"Bring it in, Lady Friskel," the vixen shouted. "Let us see what a Royal Princess trades for, these days," she added, irreverently, then squealed as Chia tickled her. The door opened, letting in a distinguished-looking older Snow Leopardess who frowned at the younger females.

"This is serious business," she scolded. "The fate of the Empire hangs on your decision, your Highness."

"Assuming all my siblings pass away first," Chia retorted, holding out her paw for the rolled up document. The gruff Headmistress harrumphed.

"Fate has a funny way of dealing with the unprepared," she warned.

"Yes, it does at that," Chia said, ominously, unrolling the contract. Her eyes popped wide open at the strong, masculine scent rising from the parchment. She caught Kasani's knowing look and smiled. The scent was very pleasant, musky, bringing to mind the forest and mountains.

The contract was long and detailed, but worded in Traditional terms. It was also written by paw, and not organized in the manner of a standardized contract. She spent a moment considering the mammal who had taken the time to write it, evaluating it against what she had researched about him. The 'brag sheet' portion was extensive, taking up nearly a third of the document.

"Is all of this real?" Chia found herself asking, incredulously, like every movie cliché.

"Yes, your Highness," the Headmistress said, curtly, looking at Kasani. "It has been verified, as this wild pup should have told you." The vixen curtsied. "He is a High Lord," the Leopardess continued, ignoring the vixen, "able to support you, from an honorable House, and has affirmed, upon his honor, that he can breed you."

"Well, yes," Chia laughed. "Of course he will say that. But he is obviously along in years. Can he actually perform?"

"Scent it and find out," Kasani said, impudently.

The look that briefly passed over the Headmistress' face spoke volumes to the wolfess, who had an extraordinary talent for reading body language. "You slept with him!"

The Snow Leopardess choked on her suddenly swallowed spit, coughing wildly and turning red. Kasani slapped her on the back while Chia fetched a glass of water for the feline. "I wasn't always the Headmistress," she grumbled, blushing. "You have nothing to fear about his… vigorousness."

Chia took a deep breath. The Headmistress watched her impassively. Kasani wore a confident smile of anticipation.

The wolfess needed to make a choice.

It was no longer a theoretical exercise. She had spent years preparing for this moment, but now her stomach had a million butterflies trying their best to get out. Kasani nodded, never one to doubt her, and Chia wished she could share that confidence. Had she actually considered all the possible outcomes? Was there some glaring error she had overlooked? Was she ready to embark down this path?

Was she ready for the Throne?

Could she not be? Her eyes narrowed. While she may have lacked confidence, there was one thing she had in abundance: Determination.

She brought the document up and rubbed her cheeks against it, covering the parchment with her scent. Kasani bowed, with a deep respect almost never displayed by the vixen. A feral smile of approval graced the Headmistress' face, surprising the Princess, though not as much as when the Snow Leopardess formally went down on her knees to accept the scented document from the wolfess' paws.

"Will your Majesty require the Blindfold?" the feline asked, formally. Chia nearly jumped at the title, wondering if she had already made a mistake and let her plans slip. The Headmistress grinned at Chia's reaction. "It is a reminder," the feline said. "As a married female, you are eligible for the Throne. However remote that possibility may seem."

"Of course," Chia let out, relieved. Kasani came next to her.

"Yes," she said. "Her Highness will take the Blindfold." She took out a small bottle of eye drops and proceeded to blind the Princess. "Can't have her running away at the first sight of a co—"

The Headmistress cracked up in laughter, snorting loudly. "You are incorrigible," she laughed, then opened the door for the guards to come in and hang cameras on every corner of the room.

"Let's go, whelp," she said to Kasani, then to Chia. "Your Highness, you know the rules: Your suitor will be chemically blinded. Do you require longer than the minimum three hours?"

"I don't know!" Chia yipped, almost panicking as her eyes began to lose vision.

"You're young and attractive," the Snow Leopardess assured. "You will be fine." Chia giggled, wondering how that would matter to a blind male. The Headmistress bowed formally.

"Cameras will be set and recording," she continued, "but not monitored. These recordings will be sealed with your contract in the vault should any legalities arise that require a review. Sound will be monitored at all times. No sounds but those nature has granted by instinct shall be allowed. That is, no words, music or any sort of schooled communication may take place until the contract has been consummated. At the first sign of communication, the contract shall be deemed ready for confirmation, and the examiners shall enter to verify this. Should the examiners determine a null result, the party at fault shall be charged with failure to honorably close the contract, and appropriate action shall be taken, even to the extent of death, if it is determined fraud has taken place. You will have the right to appeal without prejudice in case of dispute, with your honor and status unblemished should you win. Do you understand all I have said?"

"Y-yes," Chia stammered, suddenly afraid of making a mistake.

"It is always like this, the first time," the Headmistress comforted her. "Do not be overly concerned."

"Stay on the bed," Kasani reminded her friend as the Headmistress gently pushed the vixen out the door.

"So be it," said the leopardess with another bow. "You have five minutes to prepare, then your suitor shall enter. May this contract fulfill all your dreams, your Highness."

The Snow Leopardess turned and left closing the door behind her, starting the longest five minutes of Chia's life. The wolfess removed her clothes and lay on the bed, trying to look sexy, but not knowing how, then laughing nervously as she remembered he would be unable to see her, anyway. She had rehearsed many times what she would do when this moment came, but found none of that mattered. Those had been flights of fancy. This was real.

Her sight left without her even noticing, the way the day fades away while reading an engrossing book by a window, suddenly realizing she couldn't see. Sounds and smells became more noticeable as her body compensated for the loss of its primary sense. Perversely, her mind filled with scenes from so many slasher films, where the blind bride-to-be meets her untimely, bloody end while expecting a blissful encounter.

Time passed without meaning then, suddenly, a faint click resounded through the room, nearly sending her into a panic to ask who was there. The scent from the contract filled the room, only muskier: the scent of an aroused wolf.

He was like a ghost. Her heart pounding, ears straining, she heard him take a long, deep sniff, murring appreciatively, then no sound at all, not even the muted clicks of sheathed claws on the floor, until his hot breath was ruffling the fur on her neck. She found herself paralyzed with fear, then gasped as large, incredibly strong arms effortlessly turned her over, face down, his muzzle burying itself under her tail, sniffing before nuzzling and licking away at her hidden places. She became even more frightened by his intensity, but that didn't matter; her instincts took over, making her pant with excitement at his ministrations, her body responding with her own arousal. Her rump came up on its own to accept more of his caresses then, out of nowhere, pleasure exploded through her body. She howled with her climax and suddenly he was inside her, lifting her to her paws and knees, thrusting right past her maidenhead, her howl of pleasure cut short by her sharp yelp of pain.

Just a few, quick thrusts and he pulled her tightly against him, taking her neck into his powerful jaws. She howled again, louder this time, as his knot locked them together and he emptied himself in her, consummating their contract.

"You're mine, now," he growled possessively by her ear as she panted in a daze beneath him. He flopped down on the bed, his knot dragging her down unceremoniously next to him. "There is a waiting list for the Zootopia Commons," he informed her. "You will remain here until a room opens up."

"Zootopia?" she asked, returning to her senses. "What am I supposed to do down there?"

'Warm my bed and bear my kits," he rumbled. "Is there anything else you can do?"

"What are you doing in _that_ forsaken place?" she wanted to know. He grunted.

"Saving the Empire," he said, dismissively. "I do not expect you to understand such things." He got off the bed, pulling out roughly from her. "Oh, by the way, my name is Octavio, Lord Belyiklyk."

* * *

_10:45 AM_

Chia giggled, snuggling her rump against Octavio, her tail draped lazily over his hips. He lovingly nuzzled her neck, his paws running appreciatively over her arms and thighs while they lay locked, spooned together, after coupling in the luxurious airship suite.

"What has my Alpha so amused?" He whispered into her ear with a playful nip.

Her paw came up to scratch under his jaw. "I was just remembering our first time together," she told him. Octavio let out a disappointed sigh.

"I am sorry, my love," he apologized. "I was not very kind to you then."

"It is water under the bridge, beloved," she murred. "We call it the past because we no longer live there."

"Still…"

She silenced him with a finger on his lips. "The path we took is what led us here," she said. "Change one thing, and we would be somewhere else. I like where I am."

He growled, stroking her hips. "As do I," he breathed into her ear. She giggled, wiggling her rump.

"You used to be serious, my love," she teased.

"I used to be a fool," he admitted. "Why did you wait so long to... enlighten me?"

*You were busy with other matters," she deflected. "Could you take me again, before the others return?"

"I will take you over and over all day if you wish," he murred, nibbling her ear. "There is little else to do on this airship." He nuzzled her neck. "But you will have to answer my question first." His paws cupped and massaged her breasts in the way she liked the most.

She moaned softly. "Is this how you interrogate all your victims?" she murred.

"Only the ones I love," he growled. "Have you reconsidered your answer?"

"Oh, very we-e-ell," she crooned. "I yield."

"Should I stop, then?" he whispered, playfully.

"Not if you wish me to say anything more," she breathed, covering his paws with hers. "I had my doubts about you," she confessed. "You left me on the bed like a cheap courtesan, not even waiting for the examiners to finish with me. You were my first. I had never felt so humiliated in my life, laying there bruised, bleeding and...and...used." Octavio whined softly, nuzzling her head comfortingly.

"It wasn't until I took up actual residence in the Commons," she went on, "that I learned from the other females that my experience had not been so terrible after all. So I pushed Father to get my room at the Embassy immediately rather than annul the contract for breach of access—I was truly upset with you, my love. Father wanted me to keep an eye on you, so he agreed. I was to report on your activities and give my impressions of you."

"I always wondered how you managed to get your room so quick," he chuckled. She elbowed him.

"There was a six-month waiting list, you rascal," she chided. "Did it ever occur to you to make advanced reservations?"

"I did," he protested. "As soon as I learned your father was accepting contracts." Chia giggled.

"Kasani sent you that notification," she confided. "Father did not let it be widely known I was available for marriage; it took us three months to realize he had not sent a public notice of availability, and then another month to find you."

"You _are_ determined," he admitted, proudly.

"Yes. Well," she continued, "I was ready to give up on you when I learned you had slept with half the Embassy females." Octavio became remarkably quiet. "Hmmm. I also noticed you were not selective: Anything female and available was acceptable." She felt him squirm uncomfortably. "I remained in Zootopia because I was your only regular playmate."

"Until Tonya arrived," she growled. "If Arthur had not killed her, I would have." He nuzzled her ears apologetically. "If you had ever brought her into your quarters..." she rumbled.

"You are the only female I have invited into my quarters," he assured her, submissively.

"Is that so?" she asked, sweetly.

"In Zootopia," he clarified.

"In Zootopia…?" she mused.

"Since you arrived," he admitted, sheepishly.

"I love you, Octavio," she sang, happily. "And if you ever cheat on us, we will have that magnificent member of yours for supper." He smiled indulgently, though knowing she was serious.

"Well," he chuckled, "I did vow to provide for you."

"Why did you sleep with _her_, of all mammals?" Chia asked, softly.

"I had to be sure she could do as I required," he said, ashamed. "The professors at the Institute were chosen for their... weaknesses… in addition to their talents."

"What do you mean?"

"I requested a particular... type... of vixen," he explained. "One who would not be scandalized to play the harlot. When Tonya arrived, I did not believe that would be the case, knowing she was of Noble blood. If I had known her father had also been Raised, I would have simply sent her back home."

"Why would the Ministry send her?" Chia wondered aloud.

"Maedved told me she walked in and specifically requested the assignment," Octavio told her. Thinking back, he realized the dead polar bear had withheld telling him Tonya's family had been Raised in order to gather cause against him. "And with her educational background, it was a perfect fit. Better than perfect, since she was brilliant and no subterfuge was required to get her into the Institute. But, I had to be sure…"

"So," Chia mumbled, "you trained her." Octavio sighed.

"No," he said, uncomfortably. "She was a troubled mammal, my love. We found there was nothing we needed to teach her. I will discuss it with you, if you so desire, but I would rather it stay in the past."

"Are you crying?" she asked, surprised at hearing a slight sniffle.

"Is that important?"

"Yes," she murred. "Are you sorry for what happened to her?"

"No," he said, heavily. "But I weep because I would do it all again if necessary."

She turned around, breaking their lock, and kissed him tenderly. "That is why you will be my Emperor," she whispered. He sighed.

"Ever since I conceived my plan," he said, pensively, a small frown on his face, "I accepted that there would be a price in lives. I simply did not care about it very much, back then. Now, these past few days, the cost weighs on my conscience and I do not like the feeling. I am glad that Zootopian couple survived."

"We have both changed a lot," she admitted, stroking his cheek. "I believe it is for the best, my love. Our Traditions place more value on individual lives than we have grown accustomed to giving. That is something we will have to address, if we are to bring back our former glory."

"Am I doing the right thing?" he asked. "Taking us all to Aurora? Things are so different; I feel I have no control anymore, that I am only reacting to events."

"We are not reacting, this time," she reminded him. "Your plans and mine have converged, and you are no longer acting alone, but in concert. That is what is different." She smiled, looking into his eyes. "We were born for this moment, my love. Now, that it is here, we are taking action. And we will do what we must."

"Did you know your father was against me?"

"Father is only for himself," she said, dismissively. "I did not know he had become your enemy, however. I thought he was close to you, but that, of course, was hearsay. He seldom spoke to me about things such as that, though after we made our contract, he did seem pleased with the outcome." She laughed. "Perhaps it was just the prospect of sending me away from Aurora. To think I believed he was watching out for my well-being when he asked me to report on you." She giggled. "Not a mistake I shall repeat."

"Just what did you tell him, beloved?"

"I told him you were very dedicated to your work—and an attentive betrothed," she said, sweetly, to Octavio's discomfort. "So I did not _completely_ perjure myself. He wanted to know how your assignment was progressing, but I really did not know, since you never confided in me. It is possible he thought I was lying about that, I suppose."

"No," Octavio growled. "If you had known, it would have been treason: Me, for telling you. You, for giving classified information to someone without clearance." He chuckled, though without real humor. "Your father does not have that high a security clearance at his own request: He wants to maintain Plausible Deniability to the House of Lords."

Chia's face became indignant. "He was trying to entrap me?" she yowled. "That treacherous weasel!"

"I would like to tell you that it was accidental," he said. "But he strictly warns everyone about this whenever he is briefed."

"So, why did you reveal your plans to me, two nights ago?" she whispered, knowing, inside, the answer.

"You are my mate," he said, placing his forehead against hers. "My Alpha. I have no secrets from you, beloved."

She murred, her eyes turning sultry, and kissed him passionately. "Do you still doubt yourself?"

He rubbed his nose against hers. "I suppose I never really did," he said. "It is very comforting, however, to have your words of reassurance."

"We are one, my love," she whispered. "There is nothing we cannot accomplish together." She kissed him, then turned around, snuggling her rump against him, making him groan. "But we still need pups to claim the Throne," she giggled. He nipped playfully at her neck.

"Then let us strive together with renewed purpose towards that end," he growled, taking hold of her hips.

Outside the cabin, Alexandra held up her paw, her sharp bunny ears catching the sounds from the other side of the door. She turned to her other mothers. "I believe we all wanted to see the movie playing in the main theater," she said, smiling. The others giggled, and, as one, they all headed back to the main deck.

* * *

_11:35 AM_

"Hey, Big Guy," Matilda's voice came clearly through the secure link. "Anything... respectable… I can do for you?"

Marcus couldn't help laughing. _"Well,"_ he confessed, _"I just had the sky fall on me, and I figured you have experience in such things."_

"Ohh, boy," she said. "Who got implicated?"

_"Director Castille,"_ he informed, to a loud expletive from her. _"He just walked in the observation room, cool as can be, and confessed to an affair with Packland."_

Matilda whistled. "Anything else?" she asked. "That's indiscreet, but not criminal. You know that."

_"There were detailed discussions of several cases involving Counter-Intelligence,"_ he told her. _"All quite innocent if she weren't a spy."_

"You know the drill, Marcus," she said after a short pause.

_"Yeah,"_ he whispered. _"I guess I know how you and Jack felt. I'll call the Mayor. I was hoping you could you join the call; I tried Jack, but his number says he's 'indisposed'—a new one for me."_

"The storm is just gathering," she confided. "He's going to need a lot of support. Don't worry, Big Guy: I got your back."

Marcus chuckled. _"I like the sound of that,"_ he said. _"ZIA and ZBI finally cooperating productively. You know, I'll be in Zootopia tonight…"_

"I just happen to have some room at my place," she said, casually. "Imagine that."

_"Might not have any time to sleep,"_ he chuckled.

"I guarantee you won't," she purred. "Call the Mayor in ten minutes? I need to get more coffee."

_"Ten minutes it is,"_ he laughed. _"I need a refill, myself."_

* * *

_11:50 AM_

Sitting on the edge of the messy bed, Vince shook his head, looking down at the bunny snoring next to him; Tom had never mentioned she snored. Then he remembered one of the biggest complaints his roommate had, which was Margaret always insisted on being driven home to sleep. Vince frowned; now she needed somewhere to stay? Something was Going On.

She was a first-class lay, but Vince did not appreciate being played. Was she simply getting back at Tom? He thought on her earlier comments, about her family being perverts and not trusting anyone else. Tom had joked she was a bit kooky and maybe she was more than just 'a bit'. But this was also an opportunity, if he played his cards right. And she really was a first-class lay.

He got up and went to the shower, settling under the warm jets to let the water soothe his thoughts. He had teased the doe before about her 'perverted' sister, Judy, who so blatantly went against the Natural Order of Things to marry that fox. Vince had always suspected Margaret wanted the fox for herself from the way the doe spoke about him, but he had obviously been wrong if she was running away from that perverted family of hers.

Vince had a Blog, The Natural Order, which he was very proud of. Sure, Tom got his stories on Bunnyvision News, but Vince's audience reached millions throughout _all_ of Mammaldom, with subscribers in every country, including Pawaii. Those millions of subscribers shared his opinion that rabbits should only breed with rabbits and foxes with foxes. Top scientific contacts agreed with him that horrible mutations would result if ever two such diverse species crossed, and Vince had posted hundreds of images of simulated horrors that would arise should ever such a travesty of Nature take place. He shuddered, imagining, again, a race of Predators that bred as fast as rabbits, one that would quickly eat through everything in their path, to be reduced to farming the few remaining prey to sustain a barbarous, bloodthirsty existence.

Vince took a deep breath, calming down. With Margaret Hopps, from the most vocal Interspecies advocate Clan in Bunnyburrow, now on his side (for she surely must be, he reasoned, if he was the only one she trusted,) Vince could rally his subscribers to finally take action when the doe gave a detailed account of the perversities taking place inside the Hopps Burrow. Laws could be passed, measures taken, to preserve the clean, safe lifestyle Mammaldom had enjoyed since they first became sentient.

He stood in the fur dryer, turning around with his arms up. The forced air blowing on his face invigorated him, making him bounce up and down on his feet with renewed purpose. The Natural Order would finally become Mainstream.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Did you enjoy Chapter Three?**

**That can of worms is pretty deep.**

**Until next time,**

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chaos Rising

**Author's Note:**

**Hello everyone!**

**Are you enjoying the story so far?**

**Special thanks to Salty for giving the once over!**

**As always, your comments are welcome!**

**Enjoy this next installment!**

* * *

_"You still on?"_ Came Marcus' voice.

"Still here, Big Guy," Matilda answered, amusedly. "Congratulations?"

Marcus groaned. _"I like running Counter Intelligence,"_ he complained. _"Now I have to do real work."_ Matilda chuckled.

The conference call with the Mayor had gone as expected. While Lionheart wasn't prone to panicking, he had come very close when hearing Director Camille had also been implicated in the Packland/Ryzhaya mess. He appointed Marcus as Acting ZBI Director on the spot, with a mandate to clean house. The position was subject to confirmation by the Council, though the Mayor had no doubt the appointment would stick.

Matilda Informed the Mayor that Jack had initiated an Article 14 operation, leaving out the details for Jack to explain in person, cueing Lionheart that things were far from over. That Matilda and Marcus would provide as much support as possible was left unsaid and was not something the Mayor could legally request they do. He might not be panicked, but the Mayor was understandably worried as the investigation uncovered more and more prominent suspects. In addition to Director Castille, two more Councilmammals on the Intelligence Committee and three on the Foreign Policy Oversight Committee had been identified. Over a dozen senior-level ZBI and ZIA personnel were also implicated but, so far, ZDF had remained unblemished by the scandal, and they all hoped it remained so.

Matilda had not revealed anything to Marcus about Jack's new operation, nor had he asked. Should there be any reason for him to know something, she would tell him. They were both consummate professionals, comfortable with the boundaries imposed by their positions.

"It's better this way," Matilda teased. "I would hate for you to have to call me 'Ma'am'."

_"That's right, **Ms. Director,"**_ Marcus replied. _"You did get that promotion, didn't you?"_

She frowned. "Hmm. I get promoted to Plainsville," she grumbled, "and you get promoted to Zootopia."

_"Oh, I can probably work out of Plainsville most days,"_ he theorized. _"The Bureau has the best video conferencing system in the Commonwealth."_

"And, you're the boss," Matilda said, slyly.

_"Maybe this job isn't so bad after all,"_ he chuckled.

"When do you want to start comparing notes?" she asked, back to business.

_"Let's give the interrogation teams the rest of today," _he proposed. _"I can stay in Zootopia a couple of more days and we can go over the data. Maybe Jack and Skye will be able to join us."_

"I'll let Jack know," Matilda agreed. "Should I pick you up this evening?"

_"I'm on the Express,"_ he informed her. _"Arriving in Savannah Central at 7:30."_

"Dinner?"

_"I was about to suggest that same thing,"_ he chuckled. _"Great minds, you know…"_

* * *

_1:02 PM_

Rammstein looked over his assembled team, all mammals personally known to him from his ZDF days, dependable, discreet, and with no active links to Patricia Packland. Gregg, a Dingo, had actually dated the Wolfess a few years ago with the situation ending up badly, him transferring to the Independent Operations Division as a result. The dingo had voluntarily submitted to extended interrogation the previous night because of the scandal and been pronounced fit for duty. He also understood Rammstein would be keeping an eye on him.

The ram nodded to each of the five members. "In case some of you haven't guessed by now why I called you here, I'll get right to the point: We are going to find and either retrieve or eliminate Arthur Foxworth."

"Foxworth?" said Tundrik, a badger. "He's dead, isn't he?"

"If he's dead, I'm a talking monkey," Fritz, an elk, said. "Why are we going after the Director, anyway? He was banging Packland, sure, but that doesn't justify this team."

"You're right," Rammstein admitted. "You all signed the Covert Ops Non-disclosure forms, so you get to know what nobody else does." Hugh, a Zebra, stood up.

"I'm not comfortable with this," he said, frowning. "This sounds unsanctioned to me."

"You're free to go, Hugh," the ram said, gesturing to the door. "Anyone else? I only need three, so don't let that be the only reason you stay. There are no repercussions for walking out the door."

Nobody else said anything. Hugh left, shaking everyone's paw. "Good luck, guys." He said, leaving the room and closing the door.

Rammstein looked at his remaining team with pride. "Thanks for staying," he told them. "Hugh's not completely wrong: We will be operating under the Director's discretionary authority." The mammals nodded. Director's discretion meant the Commonwealth would not help them if they were captured.

"Arthur Foxworth has been designated Public Enemy Number One," he informed them, to their shocked expressions.

"Director Foxworth?" Fritz said, flabbergasted. "He taught me at the Farm."

Rammstein sighed. "He taught all of us," he emphasized. "He's a legend. I was even in the field with him, once." He looked at each of them in the eye. "He went bad."

"He went bad?" Matriba, a Leopardess, said. "While I don't believe by a long shot Director Savage would do something like this, he still has to go along with the other Directors, and the rest of them don't really like Foxworth that much."

"Put a lid on that!" Rammstein chided, firmly. "We don't have all the details yet, but what we do know is Director Foxworth sponsored the development of a thermonuclear device that is invisible to X-rays and he is now taking it to Aurora. Director Skye brought back the evidence from Plainsville."

"That's a Fifth Protocol violation," Fritz said, quietly.

"So, that's where Kurt and Blackwell disappeared to," Matriba reasoned.

"This will start a war," Tundrik groaned.

"Only if the rest of the world finds out," Gregg offered. "That's why we're going under Director's discretion, isn't it?"

"Good bet," Rammstein said. "Director Savage has initiated an Article 14 operation, and this is a good part of it. We have a month before we have to report to the Intelligence Committee, and we need this mess wrapped up tight well before that happens."

"We're going to Aurora, then?" Matriba asked.

"Yes," the ram told her. "We leave tomorrow."

"No way can we be ready by tomorrow," Tundrik protested. "We don't even have covers."

"Nor do we have time to get any," Rammstein admitted. "That is why we will be going as ourselves, on vacation. All of us have been to Baratea; we have visas and know the basics. We know how to survive there. We go, get the layout of the land, observe, and take a shot if the opportunity presents itself. We wait for Director Savage to play catch-up and send us a plan. Aurora Station provides logistical and intelligence support. Then we implement whatever scheme the Director has in mind and come home, hopefully on our feet, crisis averted."

"Is it too late to walk out the door?" joked Matriba. "Who goes visiting Baratea this late in the year?"

"It's one of the best times to catch the Northern Lights," Fritz encouraged her. "Find yourself a nice snow leopard and make out in Galadia Park under the Lights." Matriba flipped him off.

"We're tentatively going as hunters on an expedition to the Wildlands," Rammstein informed them, to various protests, which he silenced with a raised paw. "We go in as hunters because that allows us to bring weapons." The team members began to grin. "A good hunting rifle is basically a sniper rifle, and we can carry them around without suspicion. We're all ex-ZDF, so no one should raise an eyebrow when we put the permit request in. We will sign up for a guide and transportation package online, which just happens to be offered by one of our local agents."

"So," Gregg said, with obvious distaste, "we really are a hunting party."

"Our main priority is the device," Rammstein emphasized. "Arthur is second. Retrieval if possible, elimination if not, for both. We don't judge. We carry out assignments. I don't want to kill anyone, but one life is better than a war."

The others nodded somberly. Except Tundrik. "How does killing Arthur stop a war?" He asked, dubiously.

"We believe he is in possession of the plans for the device," Rammstein explained. "That's pure speculation on our part, but it makes sense and fits Arthur's devious mindset. There is no need for the international incident sheltering him would cause unless he holds something back from them to make himself indispensable."

"I guess that makes sense," the badger admitted. "Also explains why we're jumping so recklessly into the shark-infested waters."

Rammstein nodded. "We need this handled before the Barateans have the information to duplicate the weapon."

"Airship takes three or four days," Fritz reminded them. "He'll be long-gone by then."

Gregg shook his head. "Fast private charter can make it in one," he reasoned, smiling at Rammstein. The ram nodded.

"We leave tomorrow, noon," he told them. "There's a lot to get ready, so let's get started."

* * *

_2:20 PM_

Margaret woke up feeling just as tired as when she went to sleep, not to mention sore from sleeping with Vince, though that had been fun. She frowned, interrupting that pleasant recollection wondering why she hadn't slept with the buck before. Had she been able to be honest with herself, the answer would have been obvious: Elena had never slept with Vince.

She could hear the sounds of conversation coming from the living room, making out Vince's voice. Ready for her revenge on Tom, she walked out of the bedroom naked, fur matted and reeking from her vigorous session with Vince. She saw Vince speaking excitedly with Tom, the buck pounding his fist making some point. She thought Tom looked funny wearing that red pawball cap then, as she sat in Vince's lap and finally registered in the buck's mind, she realized he was not speaking with Tom but with a prairie dog she didn't know.

"Damn," Vince exclaimed, wrapping his arms possessively around her. "How about some clothes, there, bunny?"

She would have preferred getting some clothes on, but running off in embarrassment was not in her nature. Her underwear was still on the coffee table, however, so she reached over, picked them up, and slipped them on, squirming in his lap to pull them all the way up. The prairie dog was dumbstruck, mouth open and staring at her breasts.

"It's not polite to stare," she teased.

"As long as he doesn't touch," Vince warned, laughing. "Breathe, Trax, breathe!"

The prairie dog blinked. "You are one _fine_ looking female," he praised, still looking at her breasts. "You're Margaret Hopps, aren't you?" He would have added 'Elena's sister,' but Vince had specifically warned him not to mention anyone in Margaret's family—especially Elena.

"You have me at a disadvantage," the doe said, turning so her breasts would not be so gratuitously displayed.

"Call me Trax," he replied with a bow. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," she said, coyly. "Do tell, what are you boys discussing so seriously?"

"We were complaining about the state of Mammaldom," the prairie dog said, dramatically. "How morals have gotten so bad that it's becoming common to marry a member of a different species."

"Don't I know it," she laughed, bitterly. "I can't believe my sister is the one who started it. She has no shame."

"She may have married a fox," the prairie dog said, "but it was also a unique situation: High-stress job, saving each other's lives, long-term friendship. No. We're referring to this new trend, where mammals just start dating other species from the start. There are even specialty clubs, here in Bunnyburrow, where mammals go exclusively to meet other species." Margaret's mouth dropped open.

"Things have gotten so bad?" she mumbled, disbelievingly. Trax nodded somberly.

"And I have the means to do something about it," Vince said with determination. Margaret turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. "Have you ever heard of The Natural Order?"

"I went to school, Vince," she said, droly.

"I meant the website," he clarified.

"That weird site that posts those horrible made-up pictures?" she asked, dubiously. "Yes. I follow them, but not seriously."

"Those pictures are not so 'made-up,'" he said, somewhat defensively. "They are created with software designed to predict what a couple's offspring will look like. The software has even been used by police to find missing kits years after the fact. The most famous case was an elephant kit stolen from the hospital at birth. They found him ten years later, thanks to that program."

Margaret nodded. "I remember that one," she admitted. "Made headlines around the world, didn't it?"

"It sure did," Vince told her. "And that same program is used for those 'made-up' pictures to show a realistic image of what could happen should species ever start crossbreeding. It isn't imagination, Margaret. It's Science. The Natural Order is very careful about what they publish; they don't listen to crackpots."

The doe considered that for a few moments. "But, what can you do about it?" she asked him. "To me, it just goes to show nobody can do anything. Even presenting them with the end result of their perversion doesn't keep them from their foolishness."

"There are many more responsible mammals around than you think," Trax told her. "We just need to rally them into taking measures so that these perversions of Nature can never come to be."

"And how do you do that?"

"The Natural Order has millions of followers," the prairie dog emphasized. "It has a solid presence in every nation of Mammaldom. We just need to make them realize that the time to act is now. We can show them the need to pass legislation to prohibit cross-species unions, not out of hate or fear, but simple common sense: What happens to regular mammals when fierce, super-breeding, carnivorous hybrids become the norm? Who could stop them? It would be worse than the Canine Wars!"

Margaret stared at him. "That's all well and fine," she said, patiently. "You still haven't said how you can make a difference."

Vince chuckled. "We begin by showing them how this interspecies fad is corrupting the moral fiber of society. How it turns prominent, respectable families into law-breaking, perverted mammals. We tell them your story, Margaret. The story behind Tom's sensationalist piece; the reason the picture he showed even exists."

"The Natural Order will expose to millions around the world how easily this interspecies perversion corrupts even the most stalwart of mammals," Trax pronounced, excitedly. "The Hopps Clan, the Saviours of Bunnyburrow, harboring fugitives and deceiving the Commonwealth." He paused for dramatic effect. "Then the need for legislation will become obvious to everyone, from the youngest kit to the oldest mammal."

"One thing I learned from Tom," she said, guardedly, "is you need to backup your claims if you want anyone to publish. Even The Natural Order follows this from what you've told me. It's only my word against my entire perverted family." She laughed bitterly. "Against the Great Judy Hopps—WildeHopps, now."

"Margaret," Vince said, softly. "You just have to tell your story. The Natural Order will do the rest."

Margaret laughed, looking at him and Trax. "You two had me going there for a moment," she said. "There's no way for you to know what that website will publish; that would be too perfect."

Vince chuckled. "We just happen to know the owner," he said.

* * *

_4:07 PM_

Tiny wheels screaming down the sidewalk, the shiny-white-garbed weasel dodged rudely around pedestrians on his skateboard, bumping into several before nearly knocking down an elderly camel. The weasel barely missed running into a fire hydrant to avoid a head-on collision with the camel, only to have one of the wheels dig into a broken seam on the sidewalk. The skateboard nosedived into the concrete, sending the weasel flying through the air to the laughter and satisfaction of many pedestrians.

The weasel managed to roll as he fell, his backpack coming open to scatter its contents in every direction. Stopping hard against a tree, the weasel sat up, dazed, then went about collecting his skateboard and other items, some of which had rolled into the street and under a car. Passerbys chuckled, especially those who had been rudely bumped into by the fallen skateboarder, as the weasel's once-pristine outfit became fatally stained while retrieving his possessions from under the grey vehicle.

Returning everything into the backpack with a sheepish look on his face, the weasel dusted himself off as best he could, then continued on his way at a much more reasonable pace. He made it around the corner without further incident, soon forgotten by everyone. The only sign of his passing, hidden from sight, was a small disk left magnetically attached to the fuel cell of the grey car, its red, blinking light flashing every few seconds.

* * *

_4:10 PM_

The narrow, winding mountain road was usually the best part of the drive between Mountainview and Bunnyburrow. Today was the exception, Bartholomew thought, the grey-and-white rabbit's classic red convertible stuck behind a slow-moving passenger car. He sighed. At least the weather was nice this time of the year, with the cool mountain breezes, warm sunlight, and the smell of Autumn flowers in the air.

Bartholomew grinned, the taste of his lover still on his lips, making his temper immune to the pathetically slow driver in front of him. Available bunnies were hard to find in clannish Mountainview, let alone young, nubile ones who would entertain an older buck. That the older buck was also married made things more complicated, still.

He laughed. Not in Bunnyburrow, however, where young does practically lined up nowadays to get away from their burrows, even willing to be a kept bunny if it meant independence from their over-controlling families.

Bartholomew Lamorphe had grown up in that environment, so he understood the pressure to get away. It was worse for the does in the patriarchal Bunnyburrow society, where it was almost impossible for a female to earn a living wage. Sure, things were changing, they said, but it would be years before a female could earn half as much as a male. Unless they could get a job in Commonwealth service, where gender did not dictate salary.

Enter Bartholomew's appeal to the warm, desperate bunny does of Bunnyburrow. As Director of Intelligence for the ZIA, he could open the door to much coveted Federal Service employment. Not that he had the authority to hire anyone directly, but a letter of recommendation from a Director held sway over anything but the lowest dregs of the candidate pool. Bartholomew had already brought in several excellent analysts from his 'extracurricular' associations, though many a joke circulated about how his vetting process only yielded female candidates.

His most recent 'candidate,' Deirdre, showed excellent potential, in addition to a voracious appetite for Bartholomew. He smiled lecherously. The white and black doe was built for sex in Bartholomew's opinion, curvy and soft, yet still firm, moving with the grace of a dancer—the exotic kind. They had met where Bartholomew usually met his bunnies, at the Bunnyburrow Summer Jobs Fair, which drew mostly recent college graduates, though mammals of all ages and gender showed up to find jobs at the city-sponsored annual event.

Bartholomew always showed up as a prospective candidate, posing as a recently unemployed executive. That lent him an air of desperation the younger females could relate to, many of whom would have to return to their restrictive burrows if they could not find a job right after graduation. It also explained his affluence and his reason to be there: Looking to preserve his way of life.

He had met Deirdre while circulating around the booths, the first thing he noticed being a tattoo on the inside of her left ear in the shape of a heart, obviously old and now mostly grey. He shadowed her, not stopping at any of the booths that did not offer high-level employment, but managing to bump into her at several booths, nonetheless. It began with small talk, quips really, about the booths they left, where the mammals inside never showed any interest other than getting them to fill out an employment application, eagerly making sure they wrote down the name of the mammal giving them the form.

As they progressed down the endless aisles of booths with their bored-looking mammals, their talk progressed to recent personal history and experiences, which story Bartholomew had perfected years before. By the time they reached the last booth, they absently picked up the applications and left together, heading straight to Bartholomew's Bunnyburrow townhouse, where they spent their first night together.

Bartholomew's schedule had him in Bunnyburrow one third of the time, which is why he had the townhouse, with full amenities including an indoor spa and swimming pool. As far as his wife knew, it belonged to the Agency. His candidates stayed there, with a paid credit card and a car, and he never inquired what they did during his time in Mountainview. The Jobs Fair was the perfect time to meet the does, giving him nearly a year with his lovers before the Agency opened its doors to recruits a month before the next Fair. Most spent their time alone studying for the Agency and other Federal Service Entrance Exams.

He had been with Deirdre nearly five glorious months now, and today was one of those weekends he went home to his wife. In some ways, he managed to convince himself, the affairs helped their marriage. On his days at home, he didn't think about whatever doe was waiting for him in the townhouse. His wife was a bunny, after all, and her husband returned each time with renewed interest in her and was able to meet her needs which, unfortunately, waned for both of them as the days went by until, on the day he left again, it was more of a relief he was leaving.

Bartholomew never investigated whether she also might have lovers, which would hardly be fair under the circumstances. While they were together, they were happy and dedicated to each other, and that's what really mattered he told himself every night.

Thoughts of his wife suddenly aroused him. Last time he went home, she had clean-shaved the fur around her nethers and dyed all the rest fox-red with black calves, forearms, and ear tips. She had promised another surprise for this time, hinting at a purchased item she wanted him to try on her…

It was no use. The stupid driver in front of him would simply not speed up or yield, even after he repeatedly flashed his headlights and honked his horn. For the next two miles, up the curviest and steepest part of the road, the driver started using his brakes! Then he noticed the driver was speaking on a cellphone, seemingly arguing with whomever might be on the other end, and completely lost patience.

His vintage car had plenty of power, which he promptly used to gain speed and pass the slow moving car in a much anticipated passing lane. As he passed alongside, coming around a bend, a large delivery truck came looming down on the wrong side of the road, heading straight for him in the passing lane. The slow moving car was now alongside him, perversely matching his speed, so Bartholomew swerved onto the other side of the road without hesitation to avoid the delivery truck. Straight into the path of an oncoming dump truck.

Instinct made him drive off the road, off the cliff side, one thousand feet to the bottom. Time seemed to stand still as he burst through the guard rail, and he had that moment to notice the delivery truck driver nodding to the driver of the slow car, whose driver, a black and white doe, had a faded, grayish tattoo of a heart on the inside of her ear.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**That's it for this chapter.**

**Things really begin spiraling out of control.**

**Let me know your thoughts.**

**Until next time, **

**Thanks for reading!**


	5. First Strike

**Author's Note:**

**Hello everyone!**

**Took a bit longer than expected, but I think it was worth the extra editing.**

**Special thanks to Salty for giving the once over again!**

**As always, your comments are welcome!**

**Enjoy this installment!**

* * *

_4:30 PM_

It was time to start the barbecue and Wile Eastmore was the neighborhood's self-proclaimed Master Barbecuer. The coyote traditionally held neighborhood lawn parties during the cool Saturdays of Autumn in the unique, all-predator community in the outskirts of Bunnyburrow City proper. There were no Association rules or ordinances making the collection of thirty properties a haven for predators. It was simply the way things worked out over the years and now few prey families would feel comfortable being the single fangless household amongst all those meat-eaters, regardless of how "civilized" and "progressive" all parties might consider themselves.

Fresh, home-made bug-burgers and bug-sausages, smothered in Mrs. Eastmore's special BBQ sauce, were the rage of Saturday Afternoon, usually drawing many more mammals than actually lived in the neighborhood. The Eastmores provided lawn and protein, everyone else, the side dishes and beverages. Arrivals began after 2:00 PM and lasted well past sunset, though last alcohol was served at 6:00PM. Anyone who partook of alcoholic beverages left their keys with Mrs. Eastmore, and anyone too drunk to drive would be left sleeping on the lawn. There had only been a pawful of such incidents in the early years, until everyone one knew it was an unbreakable rule of the household.

Wile imperiously opened the back patio doors, stepping out dramatically amidst the applause of his guests, nodding gracefully to his audience while slowly making his way to the Barbecue Pit.

Admiring the custom brickwork grill, a relative newcomer he had only met once, a tall raccoon with a foreign accent, stepped aside to let the Master through.

"It is a truly magnificent set-up," the raccoon said in heavily accented Common, shaking his head.

"Designed and built by yours truly," Wile said with a flourish. "The largest barbecue rig in Bunnyburrow."

"Have you had it long?" The raccoon asked.

"Over ten years," the coyote said, proudly, donning an oversized apron with 'The Master' embroidered on it.

"I like how the gas burner placement also allows you to use charcoal," the raccoon said, admiringly. "It must be time consuming to properly maintain this masterpiece."

Wile smiled. "I should probably spend a bit more time on it than I do," he admitted. "So, who was the girl?"

The raccoon tilted his head. "Excuse me?"

The coyote nodded towards the raccoon's ear. "Only a female gets you to put ink on your ear," he chuckled. "Especially a heart—and only a sad ending gets one to let it fade away."

The raccoon laughed heartily. "Very true!" He said. "I was young, she was older. I soon realized she wanted me to do things I did not agree with. You understand, the follies of youth."

"I married mine," Wile laughed. "We're both too stubborn to admit we were wrong, so we made it work just to spite the naysayers."

The raccoon joined in laughter, clapping him on the shoulder. "Ah, spite!" he laughed. "The true 'most powerful' force on the planet! Well! I better leave the Master to his work," he said. "There are too many predators walking about to leave them hungry!" The raccoon turned and slowly made his way through the crowd, leaving the coyote to continue his preparations, half of which were simply show.

The raccoon made it to his car and was two blocks away by the time the 'Lighting of Primordial Fire' ceremony began. In his rearview mirror, he saw the rising fireball of the exploding propane tank.

* * *

_4:35 PM_

The base was busy, not typical for a Saturday afternoon except, these days, the entire ZDF was on constant alert. Determined-looking mammals of every species went about their business, from PT to grounds maintenance to war games. Unlike the rest of the world, the ZDF knew no discrimination, able to find a use for every mammal, large and small.

One of those small mammals, Lt. Jenkins, a ferret, stood out among the best young officers of the ZDF, being put on the fast track for Senior Officers Training School. Already an assistant to General Felmore, CINC of Commonwealth Ground Forces, the ferret was expected to make Captain this next round of promotions, after only four years in the service.

Making his way as quickly as possible without actually running, the Lieutenant carried a thick folder the General had forgotten in his office. He purposefully made his way to the Headquarters building, where the three CINCs of Ground, Air, and Sea Forces held their daily Joint Briefing. The current State of International Affairs, as the Intelligence spooks dubbed it, had prompted the CINCs to hold daily meetings as a precaution.

Jenkins returned the salutes of the MPs on duty at the building's entrance, showing them his ID, then passing through the biometric ID and body scanner. Out of sight of anyone, the officer did run all the way to the other end of the building, slowing to walk before coming into view of the guards standing by the briefing room door.

"Just in time, Sir," the sergeant on one side said with a smile. The enlisted mammal on the other side opened the door, and Lt. Jenkins strolled into the room.

Attendants were just finishing serving coffee as Jenkins made it to his General's side at the large, round table.

"You make him look good, Lieutenant," Admiral Hennnely, the bear CINC of Naval Forces, chuckled.

"I simply follow the General's good orders, Sir," the ferret said with a smile, handing the folder to his General. He stepped back, taking his seat behind Felmore. The junior officers assisting the other CINCs gave him knowing smiles, familiar with the ways of Generals and Admirals.

"Good afternoon," General Quill, the porcupine head of Military Intelligence, said. "While it has been a very busy twenty-four hours in the Civilian sector, we, thank the powers that be, have been unaffected by the Ryzhaya/Packland quagmire and have not identified any emerging or worsening threats on the board." The CINCs and other senior officers around the table gave relieved sighs as they scanned the large monitors hanging from the ceiling showing a map of the continent with appropriate markers for threat levels and geographical location of said threats. "As of this morning," the porcupine continued, "the Commonwealth remains the strongest military force in known Mammaldom, and is likely to remain so for the foreseeable future." The porcupine sat down. "Admiral—yes, Lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Jenkins had stood up, staring at a spot on the display. "There's something new on the map," he said, walking closer to the table.

"No, Lieutenant," General Quill assured him. "It is the same as yesterday, I assure you." The Lieutenant shook his head, climbing onto the table and pointing to the display.

"Right there," he said, pointing at Zootopia. Everyone stared, wondering what they had missed. Lieutenant Jenkins looked contemptuously at the gathered officers. "You don't even see the threat this place represents," he sneered, ripping open his shirt to reveal the faded tattoo of a heart.

Then he promptly exploded.

* * *

_4:36 PM_

Sitting at a table on the sidewalk of the trendy street corner café, Mayor Lionheart and Chief Bogo discussed the current status of the Ryzhaya/Packland case which, technically, was still under Bogo's purview. The Mayor's bodyguards stood nearby, four rhinos, staying out of the way and scanning around for anything threatening. The café was downtown, so there were few patrons at this time on a Saturday, with massive concrete planters keeping cars from parking in front of the establishment and also assuring the lion and buffalo had a high degree of privacy to talk. Both mammals held large, steaming glass cups of coffee.

"I don't suppose I could get some better coffee approved in the budget," Bogo mused, sipping from his cup appreciatively. Lionheart did likewise.

"You get the same stuff we get at City Hall," the lion commiserated. "It's still better than the axle grease they served in the ZDF."

Bogo laughed. "At least you could clean your weapon with it," he chuckled. The two had served together in the ZDF. It had been random chance that the Chief had not been the one at Bunnybreak Ridge. There were two posts open at the time of their promotions: Bunnyburrow Civil Defense Corps Liaison Officer and Military Police Post Commander. Both positions were stepping stones in their careers, but would determine the final career paths they would take. The two friends had flipped a coin to see who would apply where. Lionheart got the political position, Bogo the law enforcement one.

"Have you seen the list so far?" Lionheart asked.

"I stopped looking when Castille was added," the Chief grunted.

"That was, hopefully, the worst," the Mayor said with a relieved sigh. "At least none of my appointees have made it on the list."

"So far," Bogo chuckled. The Mayor raised his cup in grim salute.

Something caught the lion's eye, a peculiar pattern of light glaring off his glass cup. Battlefield instincts took over, sending him diving around the building corner. "INCOMING!" He shouted, flying through the air, sending Bogo jumping over the concrete planters.

The bodyguards dropped to their knees, weapons out and aiming, looking for a mammal threat. None of them had been in the Service to know that particular call meant 'get out of the way or die.' The bodyguard farthest from the corner spotted something strange and stood up, ready to shoot, just as the anti-tank rocket arrived, striking him in the chest. The resistance of his ballistic body armor and naturally tough hide was enough to trigger the rocket's warhead, igniting the thermite payload and burning a basketball-sized hole right through the mammal, the remainder of the projectile becoming a glowing mass of molten metal that flew past the other stunned bodyguards to crash spectacularly against the concrete wall of the building across the way.

Chief Bogo was already running towards the source of the rocket, pinpointed by thin trail of acrid smoke. Lionheart was right on his tail, snarling with outrage.

"Get back to City Hall!" Bogo shouted, pulling out his weapon.

"Bastards tried to kill me!" The lion roared. "Damn amateurs! Should have used an AP round!"

"Should have fired from closer range, too," the Chief pointed out. "Doesn't mean they don't have a sniper for backup!" The Chief noticed Lionheart was carrying a lethal-grade sidearm at the ready. "Where did you get that gun?"

The Mayor laughed fiercely. "Officers Candidate School," he reminded the buffalo.

The smoke trail led to a parked van, its closed rear doors facing down the street towards the café. Lionheart stopped where he could cover the rear and driver's side while Bogo went up to the passenger side, looking through the van's side mirror for signs of the shooter. Seeing no one, the water buffalo quickly opened the door from the front to avoid anyone laying out of sight on the floor. The cabin was empty, with a hard wall dividing the front and cargo areas.

"CLEAR!" the Chief yelled, heading back towards the rear. Lionheart stood with two of his remaining bodyguards, all aiming their weapons at the doors. Bogo holstered his weapon, put one hoof on the handle and counted down from three with his other before opening the door. Lionheart began to laugh as thick, foul-smelling white smoke poured out of the van.

"Morons!" He guffawed, spotting the bodies of two dead deer on the van's floor. One of the bodyguards made to get closer but Bogo stopped him.

"The smoke is toxic," he warned, shaking his head. "What the blazes just happened?" he wondered aloud.

* * *

_4:38 PM_

"Pepe!" The young skunk doe called out, waving to her husband mowing the back lawn. The much older male looked up, releasing the electric mower's handle to stop it, and blew a kiss to his pretty wife. She giggled, shaking her head. "There's a couple of official-looking rabbits asking for you!"

"Rabbits? Did they show you their IDs, Kim?" He asked, wiping his paws on his shorts while coming over. She gave him a kiss.

"For whatever good that does," she quipped. "I wouldn't know a fake ID from carrots. Just remember you promised to take me to the movies tonight; we haven't had a date night in months."

He held her tightly against him for a couple of seconds, patting her rump through her thin summer shorts. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "They're probably just dropping off a report or something."

"I've heard that line before," she pouted as her husband went inside. She went to the kitchen to prepare some lemonade in case the rabbits were here for more than just dropping off a report. Then she heard something fall and went to the living room with a pawful of paper towels, just in case, only to find the two rabbits standing over the prone form of her husband. One of the rabbits held a knife and was bending down to cut her husband's throat.

She screamed, somehow startling the rabbits, then backed away as they turned towards her, both of them now holding knives. They leaped over the intervening sofa with ease, evil grins on their faces and waving their blades.

"You should have stayed ou—" began one of them, before Kim threw thousands of years of civilized behavior out the window, spinning around, dropping her pants and spraying them both liberally with her body's natural defenses.

The speaker caught a full jet right in his open muzzle, immediately doubling over and vomiting profusely. His companion fared little better, taking spray into his nostrils and joining the other one in vomiting. Fear suddenly replaced by anger, Kim stood over the writhing, heaving pair and sprayed them again, making sure to get their eyes this time. Then she rushed to her husband, relieved to find him only knocked out. She opened his eyelids to see his pupils were different sizes, signs of a concussion. But he was alive!

She reached for her husband's phone and dialed the emergency code he had taught her. Then she sprayed the rabbits down one more time and sat next to her husband to wait for help.

* * *

_4:38 PM_

Kataiahs' phone vibrated insistently, moving about the table top. He was going to ignore it until he saw the calling number. He glanced at the others, Trina, Jack, Skye, Judy, Nick, Elena, and Reggie. Everyone was looking at him, their stained muzzles showing they had been busy eating berries. The lynx frowned as he picked up the device and answered it.

"Yes?" he asked Zeke.

_"We have a situation, boss,"_ came the calm reply. _"I count fifteen mammals creeping about real quietly towards the ZIA team, making me think they're not friendly."_

"Are you safe?" The lynx asked with concern.

_"Funny you should ask,"_ Zeke chuckled. _"There are others out here bumbling about, but they aren't very good. The ones heading to the ZIA team, however, seem to know exactly where they are going."_

Kataiahs swore, drawing alarmed looks from the others. "Ok," he said. "Do what you can." He hung up the phone and turned to Jack. "There are fifteen hostile mammals heading straight for your team," he told the buck. "There are several others wandering about the woods—likely searching for my team but, somehow, they know exactly where yours is." It was Jack's turn to swear, the rabbit fishing through his pockets for his own phone. He pressed the speed dial for Kurt.

"Fifteen hostiles zeroing in on your position," he told the bobcat. "Others roaming about the perimeter. There are friendlies overwatching, but they are also being hunted."

_"So much for an easy assignment,"_ Kurt grunted._ "Should we come to you?"_

Jack turned to Judy. "You heard all that," he said. "Can Kurt and Blackwell come here?"

"I need to tell Dad," she said, thinking. "We have to get the burrow alerted and armed. Can they mark themselves somehow?" Jack smiled.

"You're Pelts, they're Shirts. Head on in," he told the bobcat, then hung up the phone while Judy called her father to get the Hopps Burrow on a war footing.

* * *

_4:38 PM_

Lecroy checked his phone again, the navigation app guiding him and his team unerringly through the forest. The trees and hills made it challenging, sometimes cutting off the signal to leave them walking with nothing but an old compass for a guide. The brown hare's team of fifteen would soon split up to finish surrounding their prey. The whole purpose of such a large group was to ensure they could eliminate the ZIA support team before they could alert the real targets: Jack Savage and Skye.

The orders had arrived late last night, barely giving Lecroy enough time to gather his crew together.

As usual, the Intelligence was phenomenal, with detailed maps and plans for the Hopps Farm and Burrow, including junction box locations and security codes. The exact coordinates for the ZIA team, drone shots denoting their camp layout, close-ups of the skunk and bobcat, even the best routes to approach from were all provided in the email with his orders to eliminate Savage and Skye.

That those two had chosen to seek refuge in the Hopps Burrow was just bad luck for the bunnies: The Hopps Clan was on the list of 'targets of opportunity' and this mission gave Lecroy the opportunity, so he called in all his resources for this day: Forty-five dedicated followers without any compunction about ridding the world of a few pesky mammals.

Lecroy led the point team; the other thirty were scattered around the perimeter of the Hopps Farm making sure they didn't run into any surprises. At Lecroy's signal, power and communication lines would be cut and signal jammers activated, isolating the Burrow for what had to be done. They weren't going to kill everyone—they weren't savages, after all—just a few designated targets to make sure the Message got across: The Time for Change was at hand.

To be sure, Lecroy had been shocked at the orders. His group had never been tasked with such a large or important operation. Especially not within Bunnyburrow. To him, that meant the revolution had entered its final phase: Global Chaos, from which the obvious solution would be a return to the only system of government that had ever prospered all of Mammaldom.

The Pax Tuzei.

Lecroy had studied this extensively as did all members of the Movement. For three millennia, rabbits had ruled a blissful world. Peace, prosperity, tolerance, and unrivaled cultural growth had been the trademarks of the Tuzei Empire until the Canine Wars toppled that peace-loving world order. Predator and Prey had coexisted side by side as equals in that perfect society Zootopia could only dream of even being a shadow of.

For centuries, historians and sociologists from every nation touted the greatness of the Tuzei Empire. Then a small group of them decided the only solution to the ever-increasing number and severity of wars, rising species inequality, poverty, and diseases, was the return of that greatest benefactor Mammaldom had ever known: the Tuzei Empire.

From this group, the Movement was born.

It had many names, for it was not central to any one nation or species. As the Tuzei Empire had done, the Movement spanned all of Mammaldom, every country, every species, every social and economic class. True Believers who dedicated their lives to bring peace and prosperity to all of Mammaldom, regardless of the cost, for they knew one universal Truth: To make an omelette, you had to break some eggs.

Lecroy's grandfather had brought the Movement to Bunnyburrow, certain that the homeland of Gengris Bun, the last of the great rabbit leaders, would be receptive to the return of lagomorph rule. He had been sorely mistaken. The Great Clans had degenerated to where they wanted nothing more than the simple life of farming. They were content with supporting the travesty known as the Commonwealth. For his mistake, his grandfather had been imprisoned, where he died several years later. Lecroy Senior had developed a deep hatred for the Commonwealth from this, which he passed down to his son.

At last his family would be justified, Lecroy thought. They would take their place in History as the visionaries they were; heroes of the New Empire. Rightful rulers of Bunnyburrow Province.

"You awake, Lecroy?" Whispered his worried second in command, bringing the rabbit back to the present.

"Yeah, yeah," he answered, tersely. "Keep your panties on. I'm thinking what to do next."

"And?" His second demanded.

"Keep moving," Lecroy told him. "We're almost at the split point." The rabbit went ahead, his second shaking his head in disbelief before indicating the rest to follow.

Lecroy chided himself for daydreaming, paying careful attention to where he was going. Wouldn't do to alert their prey; they were trained ZIA assassins, capable of inflicting unspeakable horrors to unsuspecting mammals. He held up his paw and gave the breakaway signal, very pleased that his team moved silently towards their assigned positions. He put his phone away and set the timer on his watch for three minutes. A faint bird call told him everyone was in place so he started the timer and began advancing straight up the hill, carefully maintaining solid cover. The members of the team in the line directly in front of their prey would simply lie in wait in case the agents managed to flee. They also had sniper rifles at the ready should the agents inadvertently make themselves targets.

As Lecroy approached the top, he spotted one of the agents lying down semi-concealed, surveilling the Hopps Farm a mile away. He quickly spotted the other one nearby, doing the same, but looking towards the main gate to the property. The rabbit looked at his watch, aiming a silenced pistol at the agent nearest to him.

Time.

The hilltop resounded with the muffled clacks of silenced weapons, birds suddenly chirping with alarm and scattering from the area. The targets were hit repeatedly, bullets shredding their clothes, bits of cloth flying everywhere. There weren't even any cries from the agents, so sudden and violent was the onslaught. Weapons clicked empty, then the hunters approached their prey carefully while reloading their weapons.

* * *

_4:45 PM_

All was dark within the Hopps burrow but for the emergency lights lining the floors, mostly quiet now that all windows, doors, and accessways had finished their automated lockdown sequences. Inside the main hall, those without Civil Defense training calmly huddled together, five hundred in all, surrounded protectively by a growing number of heavily-armed relatives. From the top of the hall, the sounds of rabbits preparing for a fight could be heard. Stu Hopps' voice called out the names of rabbits, males and females, who stepped up to receive weapons and gear from Jethro while Kevin made a careful record of who received what.

The process went smoothly from much practice and soon the bunnies of Hopps Burrow were ready for action. Twenty five remained behind to guard the precious cargo in the main hall while the other eighty three followed Stu to the kitchens.

"Kevin," the patriarch called out, "take fifteen rabbits and secure the burrow. Jethro, take fifty outside and sweep the farm. I'll keep the rest here as reserve. Anyone with a shirt on is fair game. Try to take prisoners, but our priority is no casualties to our own, so take cover, move quickly, aim straight. Understood, everyone?"

"Yes, Dad!" Chorused the assembled bunnies, then split up and went about their assigned tasks.

* * *

_4:50 PM_

The nondescript yellow light on the gazebo ceiling told Judy the Hopps Burrow was ready for calamity. Jack, Skye, Nick and Kataiahs looked out of the lonely structure in the middle of the berry fields for signs of Intruders. Jack was the only one armed, carrying a dual mode dart gun and a taser. Nick, Skye and Kataiahs all had their claws out, looks of determination on their faces. To everyone's shock, Reggie had no claws; his parents had him declawed when he was an infant, a growing trend amongst predator parents in overwhelmingly prey-inhabited Bunnyburrow. The tod sat with the does, looking dejected, Elena holding him and Trina doing her best to encourage him.

Which left Judy impatiently chomping at the bit. She knew it made sense for her to remain on the sidelines, unarmed and without any natural weaponry. She simply did not like it. Trina said she knew self defense, as did Reggie and Elena, but like Judy, that would make them of little use against a distant assailant armed with a gun. Jack would remain in the gazebo while the other three predators would go out 'hunting' at the first sign of approach. She had told Dad to stay out of the berry fields to avoid a 'friendly fire' incident.

Reggie tensed up, sniffing the air. "They're coming," he whispered. Nick, Skye and Kataiahs were already gone, silently disappearing among the berry bushes. Jack's ears were straight up, scanning around, and Judy, Elena and Trina added their ears to the effort.

Nothing to do now but wait.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**That's it for now.**

**The true villains are making their appearance, though not all is as it seems... muwhawhawha...**

**Let me know your thoughts.**

**Until next time,**

**Thanks for reading!**


	6. The Battle of Hopps Hill

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry, everyone. This took waaay longer than expected. Then my proofer fell out of sorts, and I decided to go over it one last time, myself, and get it out.**

**Hopefully, I got everything.**

**It's a long chapter. I hope you enjoy it. It's a little different.**

* * *

_4:50 PM_

"Can you actually shoot that far?" Gret asked Zeke, sounding doubtful.

"Not using darts," Zeke denied with a sigh, reaching for his other, heavier rifle."I'll have to be careful to just wing'em. Keep your eyes open; don't let anyone sneak up on us." He peered through the high-power scope on the rifle, spotting an armed ferret creeping through the bushes. Gently squeezing the trigger, a faint _pop_ was all that was heard from the electric rifle at its lowest setting, with no recoil to speak of.

Through the scope, Zeke saw the ferret fly back through the undergrowth, blood splattering from a coin-sized hole through his shoulder. "One ferret," he said. Gret noted it down in his notepad.

Zeke next spotted an armed deer coming to investigate where the ferret had just been, apparently close enough to have heard the rustling vegetation.

_Pop_.

"One deer," Zeke called out.

* * *

_4:51 PM_

Lecroy had barely taken a step when he realized something was wrong: No blood.

"Fan out!" He yelled. "Find them now!" Just to be sure, he approached one of the bullet-riddled mounds and kicked it. Nothing but leaves wrapped in a shirt. Swearing in frustration, the buck pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt and gave the signal to begin the assault on the burrow, then was tossed backwards over the shredded decoy to roll down the hill, blood splattering on his muzzle from a coin-sized hole in his arm.

* * *

_4:53 PM_

"One rabbit," Zeke called out. "This one had a walkie-talkie. Got his picture on the camera."

"Any sign of the ZIA guys?" Gret inquired.

"Nope," Zeke told him with a chuckle. "Their fieldcraft seems to have improved remarkably now that they know they're being hunted."

"How about the boss?"

"Too far away," Zeke told him, then laughed. "I'm not worried about him, anyway. He can take care of himself... just... fine…" _Pop_. "Another ferret. Quite popular today, for some reason."

* * *

_4:55 PM_

It always surprised Kataiahs how easily he could 'go feral' even after ten millennia of 'civilized' existence. The lynx was on all fours, tongue sticking out of his open muzzle to do its part enhancing his sense of smell to track the approaching foes. He had removed his clothes, away from the gazebo out of respect for others, his natural fur coloring blending in nicely with the berry bushes and drying ground—especially considering the approaching hostiles would not be expecting him.

His ears swiveled this way and that, trying to catch and identify various sounds. He couldn't pick up any traces of Nick or Skye, assuredly a result of their professional training, making him feel better about their prospects. A scuff on the ground nearby told him the stag he had scented was about to come into view.

Kataiahs was already airborne when the stag rounded the hedged row, the lynx's razor sharp claws easily slicing through the much larger mammal's throat as Kataiahs slammed into him. The impact knocked the stag over into the berry bushes, crushing several as his military-grade rifle went skidding across the ground. The rifle was not Commonwealth issue, to Kataiahs' surprise since those were readily available on the Black market.

They could sort that out later, he thought, looking for his next prey.

* * *

Skye huddled in terror as the coyote came at her viciously waving a blood-encrusted machete, the large male having put his gun away when first sighting the smaller female.

"You're a pretty one," he growled. "Be a good girl and I'll take you home instead of gutting you." He raised his muzzle quizzically, sniffing a delightful scent from the cowering vixen. An evil smile grew on his face. "So," he said, lecherously, "you like it a little scary, eh?"

The vixen whimpered, trying to make herself as small a target as possible, her eyes round with fear. The coyote stopped, holding the machete down at his side. He held out his other paw, palm up. "I'm not going to hurt you, my pretty," he said, calmly. "Be a good girl, now, and stand up for me."

The terrified vixen breathed hard, trembling as she slowly stood up, still almost crouching, the sun glistening off her belt buckle.

"That's it," the coyote crooned softly, "that's a good girl. I'll keep you safe from the others, my pretty." Skye stood a little straighter, the beginnings of a nervous smile on her muzzle. "How about we get a look at the pretty vixen?" he cajoled, eliciting a blush and downcast eyes from the vixen. Skye's trembling paws slowly unfastened the buttons of her summer blouse, baring her breasts to the coyote's near whimper as she let the garment fall behind her. She stood there, arms along her sides framing her breasts, paws crossed on her belly, downcast eyes avoiding the coyote's hungry gaze.

"Absolutely beautiful," the male declared, hotly. "The rest of you can't possibly be anything less perfect, can it? How about you show us the rest?"

The vixen timidly looked up, an almost relieved sigh escaping her muzzle. Her hands unfastened her belt, holding on to it as her shorts slid down her legs, the coyote groaning at seeing she wore no underwear. She stepped out of her crumpled shorts, hands behind her back, her long, fluffy tail up and draped over her shoulder, the tip running along the underside of her muzzle.

The coyote returned the machete to its sling on his back, murring as the Arctic vixen hesitantly approached him. His expression softened, his arms outstretched with paws up, letting the trembling female step right up to him.

He stumbled, the strength suddenly leaving his right leg, uncomprehending at first what had happened. Then, too late, pain caught up with events, the coyote dropping silently to his knees and turning pale. Skye stepped aside, her legs covered in his blood. Her 'trusty little knife', long since concealed as a fashionable belt buckle, had done its job again, so sharp it had cut through the coyote's thigh and femoral artery unnoticed by the distracted male. She stood over him, looking down dispassionately as the life left his body, kicking him over to make sure he was dead. Bending down to clean her knife on his clothes, the vixen sniffled once, the extent of her remorse for the assassin-would-be-rapist. She searched the body, grabbing his silenced pistol, plus extra ammunition, and smiled. Now she was armed. Picking up her clothes, careful not to get blood on them, she lamented her empty pheromone scent bottle before smiling again. Jack always enjoyed helping her harvest her scent.

* * *

Nick was crouched and ready to spring into action. The scent he'd picked up surprised him, but not for long: As a Police Officer, he'd been trained to expect even the meekest looking female to be dangerous. The approaching foe smelled like a bottle of perfume had been spilled on her, bringing back the words of his ZPD instructors: "When cornered, take all available information to make as many reasonable conclusions as possible. That lets you plan ahead and act rather than react. In a life or death situation, even that little time you save can mean the difference between going home on your feet or in a body bag."

One of the scenarios discussed involved a skunk doe bank robber, who tried to hide her identity by wearing perfume to cover the natural scent of a nervous skunk. The perfume he smelled now reminded him of that, and the soft, almost delicate sound of the approaching short strides, led him to conclude a female. If not a skunk, then some other naturally scent-armed mammal.

There. He wished he had picked a better spot, being unable to see under the hedged berry bushes. No use crying over spilt milk. The next pawstep would bring the mammal into view. He heard the soft slide of her paw lifting. One. Two. Pounce!

His nose smashed into something furry, hard, and reeking of perfume. The rest of his body followed, the fox crumpling against his target, then bouncing off into the bushes, ripe berries exploding all around him. The massive male black bear rumbled with mirth.

"Hehe, gets'em every time," he growled. "You'll make a nice glove, pelt."

Nick crawled out of the bushes, covered in berry juice and leaves, panting hard. He gathered himself up unsteadily, raising his paws in a boxer's stance. He spat blood out of his muzzle.

"Bring it on, little missy," he taunted, weaving his paws in a beckoning motion.

The bear lunged at the fox just an arm's length away, but the smaller mammal was too quick, slipping away at the last moment to jab hard at the bear's thigh.

"Ow!" Nick yelped, shaking his paw. The bear laughed grimly.

"I understand," he rumbled. "It makes you feel better to fight. It's only natural. Go on. One should always try their best." A backhand from the bear's huge paw brushed over Nick's ear. The fox leaped back, nearly catching a kick to the head.

Nick circled the bear cautiously, dodging the occasional kick or swipe. He considered running away, briefly. Unlike at the Academy sparring rink, there were no poles or ropes to use against his foe. The berry bushes either bent or snapped, leaving nothing he could use as a force multiplier. The voice of his Academy self-defense instructor came to mind:

"When fighting for your life, there are no dirty tricks."

Time for new tactics.

One advantage Nick suddenly realized he had was not having to kill the bear. He just needed him out of action. An almost feral grin sprouted on his muzzle. He feigned going one way, waited for the bear to react, then dove between the larger mammal's legs, earning a graze from the bear's claws across his ribs. But he found his target. His muzzle locked onto the bear's Achilles tendon, his fangs barely long enough to get a grip when his body's momentum spun him around, making his neck feel like it would twist off. Then it was his jaw that felt like it would come off until a sickening, ripping sound announced the bear's Achilles tendon was no more, the torn flesh slipping out of Nick's mouth and sending the fox tumbling across the ground.

The bear let out a tremendous roar of pain, crumpling to the ground and grabbing his useless foot. Nick felt a twinge of pity until he remembered the bear had meant to kill him—and more than likely Judy, as well. He stood up, brushed himself off, then went looking for the next bad guy.

* * *

_4:56 PM_

Matilda was at her desk when one of the junior agents came running breathlessly across the bullpen towards her.

"We have a panic alert from Director Epew!" The female gazelle blurted out. Matilda nodded.

"Response team on the way?" She asked calmly. The gazelle nodded, catching her breath. "ZPD and ZBI have been notified?" Another nod. "Did you _call_ the senior active agent on duty?" The gazelle blinked, then looked down embarrassed. "Next time," Matilda said, gently, "use the phone. It's why we have them. They're faster than you running across the building and up two floors."

"Y-yes, ma'am," came the subdued reply. Just then, Matilda's phone rang. She picked it up.

_"Comms desk,"_ came the impassive voice. _"We just intercepted a police call. There's been an attempt on the Mayor and Chief Bogo at a downto… What? When? Get a location on Director Lamorphe and contact Director Savage's team. Now! Sorry, ma'am. ZFD is responding to an explosion at Director Eastmore's house. I am implementing Decapitation Protocol based on Director Epew's panic alert."_

"Good thinking," Matilda acknowledged, waving the gazelle away. "Ping everyone. Initiate Lockdown."

_"Yes, ma'am,"_ came the response. _"Glad you're here today."_

"Yeah, yeah," Matilda said. "I'd rather be at the beach." She hung up the phone and dialed Marcus on her secure handphone. Before he could answer, her desk phone rang again.

_"Comms,"_ came the voice, not calm at all this time. _"ZDF is at Condition Red. All units mobilized. All personnel recalled. All airships have all been directed to their Fail-Safe points and all troop ships are leaving dock fully loaded. An explosion at ZDF Central Command has taken out the CINCs. No other details yet. Apparently, General Quill is among the fatalities along with his senior staff. All ZDF facilities are on automatic wartime alert."_

Matilda took a deep breath. "Understood," she said, hanging up the phone. On her handphone, Marcus was on the line.

_"I was about to call you,"_ he said, softly. _"Did you just get the same report about the ZDF that I did?"_

"Yes," she told him, feeling better just hearing his voice. "Have you heard about the Mayor?"

_"That's why I was about to call,"_ he admitted. _"We've also have several other disturbing reports coming in. I'm glad you are at the office. It's still covert, right?"_

"Yeah," Matilda said. "Been here less than a year."

_"Commonwealth facilities are being hit all over,"_ he said quietly. _"Started about an hour ago, gauging from the reports coming in. Also, senior Commonwealth officials have been targeted at their homes."_

"I can affirm that," she said. "Directors Epew and Eastmore have been attacked. Eastmore's likely dead and a reaction force is responding to Epew's panic code at his residence, which you'll probably hear about soon. We're trying to locate Lamorphe and Jack. I'm scared, Big Guy. This came out of nowhere, is too big, too well organized, and the timing is too suspicious."

_"I agree,"_ the ram huffed. _"Packland hasn't mentioned anything I would have interpreted in my wildest fantasies as indications of an operation this large. Perhaps if she were simply a cell… but the implications of that…"_

"I don't think we need to cross that bridge," Matilda comforted him. "But let's not rule it out, either. We need more information before we make any conclusions." She sighed. "We need Arthur, dammit. He was the best at this stuff."

_"Hey, girl,"_ Marcus said, encouragingly. _"You've been doing pretty good, yourself."_ He grunted. _"Much better than I've been."_

"Don't beat yourself up too much about Packland," the sheep told him. "If Arthur had been clean, she would have been caught long ago. Ugghh! That's what frustrates me: He obviously knew what was going on, but didn't do anything about it."

_"Well,"_ Marcus said, sadly, _"ZBI shot itself in the paw with Packland. A third of our senior staff is on suspension pending further investigation. That's far worse than ZIA from what I can tell so far."_

Matilda thought about that. "You know," she reasoned, "that in itself tells us something."

_"She was specifically building a network for Commonwealth internal affairs,"_ Marcus said, following that train. _"The ZIA operatives were incidental."_

"Or simply the earliest cells of her network," Matilda proposed. "Her first contacts."

_"We need to build a timeline,"_ Marcus concluded.

"Has she let out who recruited her?"

_"Not yet,"_ the ram told her. _"I don't think it was Belyiklyk, but she's been avoiding that subject, so far, by dropping names."_

"Make sure she stays isolated," she said, frowning. "I have a feeling this is all linked."

_"That makes two of us, Matty. How about we keep an open line?"_

"Good thinking," she agreed. "I'll get Comms on it. You still coming over tonight?"

_"I'm on the Express, leaving the station right now,"_ he said confidently. _"I can run this better from Zootopia, anyway."_

* * *

_4:58 PM_

The bunnies had a distinct advantage over Reggie in this situation, their ears allowing them to track the skirmishes between the approaching foes and Kataiahs, Skye and Nick. Elena knelt on the tod's lap, her paw against his lips to keep him from continually asking what was going on. The one thing that Reggie knew for certain was their foes would be coming for the gazebo, the tall structure easily seen from the outer edges of the berry patches.

One scent that had quickly emerged was the scent of blood. And death. There were at least two dead bodies among the fields, the scent of loosened bowels coming from two different directions. The difficult part was, Reggie could not tell whose bodies were lying out there, so he kept that information to himself, although Jack must have picked up something from his face because the buck was scowling fiercely.

Elena suddenly gripped Reggie's muzzle, her eyes going wide. Jack nudged her down and Reggie wrapped his paws around her, pulling her close. Judy and Trina glanced at the buck, aiming their noses in the direction of the burrow, the one direction not covered by 'their' predators. Jack frowned, then motioned for Trina to go one way and Judy the other, the does scampering silently to either side of the truck-wide opening between the hedges. They were small enough to remain concealed from anyone coming through—unless that someone happened to look back.

That's when Reggie almost panicked: Jack motioned him to stand up. The fox shook his head vigorously in protest, but Elena understood what Jack was trying to do and wordlessly cajoled the tod to stand and look away from the crouching does. Jack patted the fox firmly on the back before going under the gazebo, aiming his gun in the direction of the opening. Elena stood up, hugging Reggie, her breathing fast and shallow. The tod wrapped his arms around her, half to keep himself steady.

Reggie smelled them first. Ferrets and rabbits. Strange combination by the fox's reckoning. They were very quiet but Reggie knew they were there, so he didn't mistake the soft falling of their footsteps for the rustling of berry laden branches. Elena trembled and Reggie pulled her close, fighting the urge to let his ears twitch or turn towards the approaching mammals, and hating himself now for accepting to be a target.

Quiet as it was, the sound of Jack's gun loosening three darts in quick succession seemed to reverberate throughout the gazebo. Reggie used that as his cue to drag Elena under the table with him, covering her with his body as the clearing around the structure exploded into action. Two rabbits and one ferret went down, asleep, while two more ferrets and two rabbits scattered, Jack having taken out the mammals with ready weapons. Judy pounced on the largest rabbit, a furious exchange that quickly ended with Judy standing over an unconscious buck.

To everyone's astonishment, Trina took out the other three foes by herself. Her over-revealing miniskirt and sleeveless blouse allowed the black-furred doe unobstructed mobility. She leaped into the frey, arms and legs a blurr, sending first the remaining rabbit, followed by the two ferrets, crashing unconscious into the berry bushes. Then she was crouching completely still in a fighting stance, one ear straight up facing forward and the other horizontal, facing backwards, her breathing slow and calm.

"Wow," Reggie said, staring at the motionless bunny, whose miniskirt had rolled up around her waist. Elena tugged his whiskers.

"Keep your eyes on me, Reggie," she grumbled. The tod looked hurt at the reproach, but knew better than to protest innocence.

"Can you teach me that move you did when you tossed the ferrets into the bushes?" Judy asked, enthusiastically. Trina stood up, turning around.

"It would be my pleasure," she said with a slight bow and bringing her skirt back down. "You did well with that buck."

Jack came out from under the gazebo, reloading his dart gun. "There are more out there, ladies," he casually reminded the two bunnies. In the distance, towards the burrow, the sound of gunfire erupted.

* * *

_5:00 PM_

The Hopps burrow was a large hill located at one end of a farm surrounded by low, well-kept, grassy hills. Beyond those lower hills lay BurrowWood Forest, marking the end of the Hopps property. The only trees on the farm were located around and on the burrow itself, not counting the thick patch of woods separating the property from the main road.

This made it easier for Jethro's group. Anyone trying to approach from the surrounding forest would have to cross the low hills, revealing themselves in the process, or travel along a few well-guarded paths to avoid crossing over the hills. Guarding the closest of these paths to the burrow, Jethro and three rabbits lay concealed in reinforced firing positions on either side of the well-marked path.

A suspicious bird call made Jethro look up to see two half-naked mammals, a bobcat and a skunk, kneeling with their arms folded over their heads fifty yards away. Both wore heavy backpacks and the skunk also carried a long-range sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. When no one rose to meet them, the bobcat repeated the out-of-place bird call.

"Birds don't just fly," he also shouted, making Jethro smile.

"We must have picked a bad spot," the buck called out in return, standing up. The bobcat stared down at a white rock.

"Not really," Kurt said, smiling. "We just thought a white rock didn't belong out here unless it was being used as a range marker."

The rabbit laughed, approaching the two mammals. "You must be with Jack," he said, gesturing them to get up. "Judy said to expect you."

"I'm Kurt," the bobcat said. "I hope she didn't forget to mention there are fifteen bad guys after us and a lot more crawling around in the woods."

Kevin nodded. "Yep," he chuckled, shaking Kurt's paw. "We're the Reception Committee."

"I'm Blackwell," the skunk introduced himself. "There are supposed to be other friendlies in the woods."

Kevin shook Blackwell's paw. "I was told the other friendlies will be staying in the woods," he said, "thinning the herd for us." He looked at Blackwell's rifle. "You any good with that?" He asked. The skunk grinned.

"Any good places to shoot from?" he quipped.

* * *

_5:03 PM_

Forewarned about the danger, the Hopps burrow had already disconnected power from the street and never noticed Lecroy's crew's attempt to do the same. The kits in the main hall did, however, notice the loss of the 'net, grumbling loudly when games were suddenly interrupted.

"Everybody stay sharp," Kevin told his group. "We handle this just like another drill." All doors, windows, and hatches were securely locked and alarms activated. Any disturbance would show up on the buck's CarrotPad. His group was gathered by the armory, the highest level in the burrow and considered the likeliest point of a forced-entry. It was also faster and easier to run downstairs than up should a break-in be detected elsewhere.

Jethro's group was responsible for securing the garage so, from the armory, Kevin's team could respond to any point in the burrow within one minute. Barring an attacker's use of high-explosives, that would be quick enough to meet any contingency.

A message popped up on Kevin's CarrotPad.

_From: Jethro, 5:08 PM_

_Here we go._

* * *

_5:10 PM_

Outside the gates to the Hopps Farm, several news crews were still occupying positions alongside the road, hoping to catch a glimpse of Judy, Nick or Skye—preferably all at once—or at least get a statement from someone inside the grounds. Thankfully, the weather was nice after the previous day's storm, and the various news crews sat around a portable camping grill, snacking, comparing notes, and generally enjoying themselves on this 'forced' outdoors assignment.

The bunnies heard it first, their ears shooting up and instinctively pointing in the direction of the Hopps Farm.

"What was that?" Asked Gretchen Greyfur, the bunny reporter from 'Bunnyburrow 5.'

ZNN's Katman Dooh, a ZDF veteran, recognized the sound immediately. "Gunfire," he said, as the sound repeated, with increasing frequency. "Get set up!" the panther called out to his team. "And, someone, call the Sheriff!"

* * *

_5:15 PM_

_"Comms, ma'am,"_ said the voice on the other side of Matilda's phone. _"ZNN reports gunfire at the Hopps Farm."_

Matilda practically threw down the phone in her rush to get into Jack's office and turn on the wall mounted TV to ZNN.

_"...at the Hopps Farm outside of Bunnyburrow," _the jaguar reporter was saying, _"where moments ago a fierce gun battle commenced between parties unknown."_ The sound of distant gunfire could be heard in the background. _"Local authorities have been notified and are expected to arrive soon. It has been a disturbing day throughout the Commonwealth, with unconfirmed reports of multiple, violent attacks on government officials…OK," _the jaguar had his paw over his earphone. _"We return you now to ZNN News Desk for breaking developments. Peter?"_

The moose anchormammal was nowhere near his typically calm self, paws trembling slightly as he looked through his notes. _"Yes, Katman,"_ Peter Moosebridge began. _"We have now confirmed that an explosion at ZDF Headquarters on the Plainsville coast has taken the lives of the senior commanders of Commonwealth forces—"_

Matilda turned off the TV. She already knew the rest of that story. She picked up the phone on Jack's desk. "Get me the Bunnyburrow Sheriff," she ordered. Within seconds, someone answered.

_"Sheriff Harriman here,"_ came the irritated voice with a heavy country accent. _"This had better be good. Today is a bad day for trivialities."_

"Good afternoon, Sheriff," Matilda said, calmly. "This is ZIA Operations Director Matilda Ewing. Are you aware there are senior ZIA staff staying at the Hopps Farm?"

"_I watch the news, just like anyone else, ma'am,"_ came the gruff reply. _"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm real busy. Lots of strange goings-on today."_

"Can I take it you've already sent help to deal with the situation at the farm?" the ewe pushed.

_"What situation,"_ came the alarmed reply. _"What else can go wrong today?"_

"There's an open gun battle in progress," Matilda said, exasperatedly. "Tell me you've sent units to deal with it."

_"Oh, that,"_ the Sheriff dismissed with a relieved sigh. _"I sent a car over to see what's going on."_

"You sent a car?" Matilda nearly shouted. "Do you think that's an appropriate response to a shootout?"

_"Ma'am,"_ the Sheriff chuckled, _"if someone took it upon themselves to start shooting at the Hopps Farm, there is little to nothing I can do but pick up the bodies afterwards."_

Matilda ground her teeth. "Don't you think you're being a little blasè about the lives of some of your most prominent citizens?" she accused.

_"Ma'am,"_ the Sheriff explained, _"I wasn't speaking about the Hoppses."_

* * *

_5:17 PM_

Kataiahs and Skye came into the clearing jogging side by side, naked and splattered with blood, each carrying their clothes neatly folded and, somehow, still clean. Neither said anything, grim looks on their faces as they approached the gazebo under the cover of Jack's gun. Kataiahs carried three rifles slung over his shoulder. Skye, one slung rifle and one pistol in her bloody belt.

Judy's heart nearly stopped at the sight, not at the blood, nor nakedness, but the fact that Nick was conspicuously absent. Teary eyed, unable to speak, the doe stumbled down the steps of the gazebo, barely catching herself at the bottom, just to fall to her knees before the approaching duo.

"We lost track of him," Skye said, kneeling before the bunny, holding the doe's chin from drooping with her cleanest paw. "There's a large group coming this way, so we came back. Nick is very resourceful, Judy. I am certain he is OK."

"He comported himself very well," Kataiahs added, gently squeezing Judy's shoulder. "So do not jump hastily to unwarranted conclusions."

"How many?" Jack asked, coming up behind Judy, running his paw across Skye's blood-spattered forehead.

"At least ten," the lynx said, looking over the unconscious mammals captured by the bunnies. "I am afraid we killed their scouts, but I see you managed to take some prisoners. Excellent." He put the slung rifles against the stairs, Skye doing the same. The sounds of gunfire was still coming furiously from the direction of the burrow, now even mixed with louder sounds from RPGs and potentially a mortar.

"Well," Jack said. "We can either try to make it back to the burrow, or we can make a stand here. If we leave, we can't bring the prisoners with us."

Skye took out her knife, going to the nearest prisoner. "No!" Judy screamed, coming out of her funk and standing up. "We are _not_ going to kill them in cold blood!'

Skye gave a sigh. "I am just going to hamstring them," she explained. "Not kill them."

"That's barbaric!" Judy protested.

"Compared to killing unarmed mammals?" Skye countered. "I am _not_ leaving six healthy enemies behind to follow us."

"Sounds like we stay," Kataiahs said. Jack frowned, but nodded agreement. "Reggie, Elena, can you use a rifle?" The couple nodded. "Excellent! Under the gazebo should offer us fair cover. Trina, my dear, I know you can shoot, as I am sure you can, too, Judy. That makes four rifles. Jack, Skye, you both can use the pistols and extra ammunition. I shall remain outside," he said, flexing his claws, "harassing them from behind. My speed advantage will only last a few moments; it burns a tremendous amount of energy, and I have not eaten properly for this."

"What if they use grenades or something?" Reggie posed. "The gazebo won't last long against that."

"Well, Reggie," the lynx said with a smile. "They may have military weapons, but they are not soldiers. I do not think they will want to kill their own comrades. We tie the prisoners to the table, in plain view, and if they want to destroy the gazebo, it will cost them their comrades' lives. All we need to do is hold out until help arrives."

Jack chuckled. "First names?" he teased.

"Why, of course, my dear Jack," the lynx replied, slapping the rabbit 's back jovially. "Closer are brothers battle-forged than mother-born!"

"You mean, you wrote—" Jack began, but Kataiahs simply winked and disappeared into the berry bushes. Trina laughed at Jack's amazed look.

"You get used to it," she told him.

* * *

_5:25 PM_

Nick almost ran straight into the large group of mammals. Only at the last moment did he find refuge behind a particularly thick patch of berry bushes, squeezing himself as tightly as he could against the fruit-laden branches. He reeked of raspberries, for which he was silently grateful as the assorted mammals went by. They were not particularly vigilant, either, trusting their numbers for security, thus missing the scent of the fox mingled with that of berries.

They passed by without noticing the berry-stained fox, soon walking around a turn on their way towards the gazebo. Nick gave them a few extra moments before dashing out of the bushes—and crashing right into a wall.

Sliding across the ground on his back, Nick looked up into the eyes of an amused rhinoceros. "Oh, come on!" the fox let out with frustration.

"My, my," rumbled the rhino. "If it isn't _Officer_ WildeHopps."

"Walk away," Nick growled from pure bravado, picking himself up into a wrestler's crouch, "and you won't get hurt." He knew he was out of time; he could hear rustling through the bushes behind him.

The rhino looked up at the sound, so Nick took his chance and launched himself with all his might at the towering mammal's crotch.

_FWOMPP_!

The rhino tumbled backwards as Nick struck his target, smashing through the bushes to lay twitching on the ground. Nick rebounded, landing on his feet, howling victoriously.

"Yeah!" He shouted at the sprawled rhino, pumping his right arm. "That's how we do it, _Police Style_!"

"Uh, you OK there, Nicholas?" came Stu Hopps' voice, making Nick spin around to stare open-muzzled at the patriarch leaning out of the turret of a six-wheeled armored crowd control car, thin smoke drifting out of the car's three-inch gun barrel.

"You have a tank?" Nick stammered, incredulously.

"This?" Stu said, fondly patting the turret. "This is Betsy. Private citizens can't own tanks—but we _can_ keep one of the CD crowd control cars if there are more than three hundred mammals living on the property. Shoots compressed rubber foam bullets."

"Gotta love large families," Nick muttered. "Can I get a ride back to the gazebo?"

"Sure thing, son," Stu said. "Know how to use a water cannon?"

* * *

_5:37 PM_

It was chaos at the gazebo. Several attackers lay moaning, injured, on the ground—as little cover as the gazebo offered, it was still better than than the berry bushes. Kataiahs had been correct; even though the attackers carried grenades, they didn't use them, unwilling to sacrifice their comrades.

Nor did they simply rush the gazebo and overwhelm the defenders. After their initial, failed attempt to take the gazebo, they hastily withdrew, splitting up into smaller groups, and ducked behind the berms that bordered the bushes, keeping low and taking pot shots at the defenders. There were enough of them to prevent anyone leaving, so a standoff ensued.

Kataiahs had waited until the attackers settled into their positions before starting to harass them. Screams from injured mammals sprang up from behind the bushes, the lynx inflicting the most painful injuries possible to demoralize them. That these injuries were invariably non-fatal did not occur to them, though it did make them put half their members nervously watching their backs. By the time Kataiahs had to stop, each of the small groups had one of their members writhing loudly in pain.

Judy, Trina, Reggie, and Elena took the occasional shot to remind the attackers the gazebo was occupied. Jack and Skye crawled around, adding their own shots to make it seem there were more mammals under the gazebo than there really were. What not none of them understood was the apparent total lack of a plan on the part of their enemy.

"What are they waiting for?" Jack wondered aloud.

"Whatever it is, I'm glad they are," Reggie quipped, loading his last magazine.

"It doesn't make sense," Judy agreed with Jack. "They have to know help will come soon."

"Unless they know for sure it won't," Skye said, letting off a round. "We are cut off from the rest of the world. We know there is fighting going on at the burrow. Maybe this is bigger than just the Hopps Farm."

*Let us not worry about it," Trina said, calmly, firing her rifle. "Let us focus on the situation at paw. We cannot control anything else at the moment."

"Is this what being a cop is like, Judy?" Elena murmured. "It's kind of exciting." Everyone stared at the doe. "Well, it is," she said, defensively, firing a shot.

"I hear something," Judy said, listening. "A truck."

"Not coming from the burrow," Jack said, adding his ears to the task.

"I guess we know what they were waiting for," Skye grumbled.

"Too late to run?" Reggie asked no one in particular.

"I love you, Reggie," Elena declared. Everybody stared at her. "What is _wrong_ with you mammals?"

"Will you marry me, Elena?" Reggie proposed in response. Everyone stared at him.

Before anyone could say anything else, the sound of gunfire shooting _away_ from the gazebo was followed by a loud _whoosh_. Mammals came tumbling across the ground into the clearing, tossed about like rag dolls by the powerful jet from the water cannon on a six-wheeled crowd control car.

"YEEEEE-HAAWWWW!" Blared Nick's voice from the car's high-power loudspeakers, in his worst country accent.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Well, there it is. I hope it was worth the wait. I am already into chapter 7, so it should be out sooner than this one was. This one was more of a filler chapter, though there is information as well.**

**Until next time,**

**thanks for reading!**


	7. Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry, all! I know it's been a while, but I ended up indisposed. Just now regaining use of my hands. It's been very slow going, and this could probably use more polishing. Hopefully, not _too_ many mistakes.**

**Enjoy this installment!**

**UPDATE: I noticed an error that I forgot to correct. Let's see if anyone catches it.**

* * *

_5:56 PM_

The Battle of Hopps Hill ended abruptly, without much fanfare or casualties—on the Hopps side. Lecroy's team, however, lost over half its members, eight of those fatally wounded. The ones who could run did so en-masse when the loudspeakers on the armored crowd control car started blaring sarcastic comments in a fake Bunnyburrow accent, accentuated by foam bullets and high-pressure water bursts.

The attackers had brought anti-tank weaponry, but those mammals had been quickly taken out by Blackwell and Zeke. With Lecroy out of action to rally and coordinate, the others had been unable to press an organized attack, their best chance having been lost at the gazebo standoff.

Although not very good in a military sense, Lecroy had trained his mammals well in other aspects: Nobody knew enough about anyone else to identify the ones who got away. Nor had Lecroy presented himself as the leader of the movement, but as a lieutenant.

The wounded buck counted himself lucky to be alive. Luckier to have gotten away when so many others had not. Doc had not come along on the failed raid, so there would at least be first aid for those injured who had managed to escape. Lecroy had already sent the failed mission text to Doc, and their plan called for the rest to remain in hiding until contacted by Doc.

Lecroy couldn't figure out what went wrong. The plan had seemed perfect. Was perfect. There was no way for the ZIA assassins to know they were coming, was there? And what kind of gun could cause a wound like the one in his arm? Perfectly clean hole, through and through. Luckily missed the main blood vessels, though not by much, and he would probably never regain full use of the arm. He looked at the tree root he had shoved into the hole to stop the bleeding. Doc would tell him for sure, one way or the other. Soon the adrenaline rush would wear off and he would be one hurting rabbit.

His second in command had not been so lucky. Perhaps if Doc had come along...no. No use going down that path. Doc would likely also be dead or injured. Damned ZIA assassins. He we would get even with them, somehow. He would need more recruits first, but he knew where to get them.

* * *

_6:12 PM_

Kurt and Blackwell came down from the top of the burrow, having remained there until Jethro signalled the all-clear. The bare-chested duo caused a mini sensation among the unattached does coming outside to help, the pair striding down the hill with their gear in paw and their well-toned bodies glistening in the fading sunlight.

"Good shooting," Jethro complimented, shaking their paws. They had taken out three teams carrying anti-tank weapons, allowing the burrows's armored car to circle around and surprise the main group attacking the gazebo. They also prevented those heavy weapons from being used against the burrow itself, which had likely been the attacker's original plan.

"All in a day's work," Blackwell dismissed, casually flexing his pecs. "You don't mind if we stay for dinner, I hope?"

Jethro laughed. "I don't think my sisters would let you leave very soon, anyway," he said, glancing at the kitchen windows now packed with blushing bunnies peeking out.

Kurt was a little shy, but Blackwell poured on the charm, milking the 'my hero' angle for all it was worth as they entered the burrow to the applause of many females. Well organized teams of bunnies were sent out to search and bring back the wounded from both sides before evening fell, leaving the bobcat and skunk surrounded by impressionable young does with nothing to do.

Until Bonnie waddled into the kitchen. The Hopps matriarch quickly assessed the situation and promptly assigned tasks to the idle bunnies with efficiency worthy of the best drill sergeant. The cog that was the Hopps kitchen sprang flawlessly into motion, already late for the burrows's usual dinner time.

Kurt and Blackwell were unceremoniously dispatched to the shower room with promises of fresh clothing. The two didn't even blink, reverting to their old military training: follow orders from whomever seemed in charge. And Bonnie Hopps was most certainly in charge.

Kataiahs and Skye were given ponchos to get them inside the burrow and to the showers. The two blood-covered predators were given looks of respect mixed with just a little fear. Nick was brought in on a stretcher, the cut from the bear's claws being more serious than it looked: once the adrenaline rush had worn off, the tod collapsed inside the armored car.

Reggie and Elena entered walking side by side, their paws virtually glued together. One look at them had Bonnie smiling wide—one less problem.

Judy and Jack wore determined looks on their faces, while Trina was serene and quiet. She approached Bonnie and bowed.

"I am sorry, Mrs. Hopps," she apologized, looking down. "There was some damage to your lovely gazebo, and some of the berry bushes were destroyed."

Bonnie stared open muzzled, then drew the black bunny into a hug. "Oh, nonsense," she assured. "I'm sorry you had to experience such a fright at our farm."

"It was not really that frightening," she replied, giggling. "It was very exciting."

* * *

_6:30 PM_

Margaret shook her head at the TV in disbelief. "Who is stupid enough to start shooting at the farm?" she wondered, laying with her head in Vince's lap.

"You'd be surprised at how many stupid mammals are out there," he chuckled, caressing her hip. "They outnumber the smart ones a thousand to one." His phone buzzed again, drawing an amused smile from Margaret.

"You have a lot of fans," she said, looking up at him. "It's been buzzing all afternoon."

"Just a lot of folks wanting someone to listen to their stories," he dismissed, looking at the message displayed and shaking his head.

"Anything important?" she asked, stroking his cheek.

He chuckled. "Just another fan who thinks the news is fake."

"I don't blame them," she sighed, "I might also, under the circumstances."

"You worried about your family?" he asked, tenderly, his paw wandering down from her hip.

"Honestly?" she answered, her leg turning a bit. "I can't stand them, but I don't want anything bad to happen to them either—most of them, anyway."

Vince chuckled, his paw cupping her crotch. "I meant about the attack that just happened," he told her. Margaret giggled, turning onto her back and shifting her legs so his paw could get lower between them.

"With as much time as Dad puts into Civil Defense training for the burrow? He's a war Vet, Vince. You'd need an entire army to get to the door." Her legs came up, her thighs clamping around his arm while his fingers found their way inside her. The buck leaned down for a kiss.

"That's good," he said, kissing her on the muzzle. "Can't have my bunny all worried now, can I?" She shook her head, paws clasping around his neck, extending the kiss while his fingers caressed her.

"How come we never hooked up before?" she ventured, arching her back with pleasure. Vince grinned.

"Probably because I haven't slept with Elena," he told her, seriously. "Isn't it better being first?" Margaret's face darkened momentarily, but Vince's fingers were deft and very skilled, making her moan with pleasure instead of bursting out with anger.

Margaret gasped, shivering. "Why _haven't _you slept with Elena?" she asked, curiously.

"She has some funny ideas about kits," Vince laughed. "Which makes a lot of sense since you told me she's seeing a fox now."

Margaret swallowed, her hips rocking against his paw. "She doesn't want kits," she moaned, closing her eyes.

"It's just not natural," the buck sighed. "I prefer natural-minded females." Margaret was breathing hard now, not really listening, and Vince was aroused by her responsiveness. He quickly got up and brought the doe to her knees on the couch, kneeling behind her. With a loud groan, he entered her, thrusting slowly to Margaret's ever-louder moans. "You don't mind kits, do you, Marge?" The doe shook her head, emphatically.

"I want them," she purred. "Do you?"

"When the right bunny comes along," he panted, picking up the pace.

"Am I that bunny?" she purred.

"Why don't we find out?" he said, pulling her tightly against him and exploding inside her. She kept still, until his paw reached beneath her to caress her more sensitive spot, then she moaned loudly and fell over the edge herself, quivering against the buck. When they had both spent themselves, she looked over her shoulder at him.

"Are you trying to get me pregnant, Vince?" she panted. He shook his head, caressing her hips.

"Nope," he said, stroking her tail. "Just seeing what happens naturally. You'd make a good wife." She blushed at that.

"I don't even know how to cook," she mumbled in response.

"You can always get someone for that," he laughed. "But if a bunny doe can't satisfy the natural needs of a male, you might as well not even date her."

The sound of the front door unlocking made them both look up as Tom came in with a slightly drunk brown-and-white bunny doe in tow. He stopped mid-stride, his companion running into him with a huff.

"Margaret?" he stammered, catching sight of the naked couple on the couch. "What are you doing?"

The two lovers laughed at the buck's confused expression. "A thousand to one," Vince repeated, making Margaret laugh even harder.

* * *

_6:54 PM_

After showering, Kataiahs took over the infirmary with Trina, Judy, and Elena, treating the various wounded. Trina was an actual nurse, while Judy and Elena had Emergency First Aid training. Everyone was treated in order of severity, the lynx efficiently triaging the various mammals with uncanny skill to those who didn't know his true identity.

"Oh, I served in the war," he told the curious by way of explanation, truthfully—just not which wars.

Bunnyburrow Emergency Services had no available ambulances to send: The afternoon had been violent throughout the Commonwealth, with the usually sleepy Bunnyburrow taking its fair share of casualties. That the Hopps Farm could handle their own wounded was a blessing. They could also hold their prisoners until the proper authorities were able to arrive.

The token Bunnyburrow Sheriff's Department car blocked the entrance to the Hopps Farm, having first verified the Hoppses had the situation under control. The flashing lights from the vehicle reflected off the twin carrot-shaped gates, adding dramatic overtones to the broadcasts from the various news crews on site. The Story of the Decade was turning into the Story of the Century, fueled by the excited reporters.

The ceiling-mounted TV in the infirmary was showing BunnyVision News while the wounded were cared for. The least serious cases had already been taken care of by Jack, Reggie and Skye, who had field medic training, courtesy of the ZIA. The ones who needed actual surgery took longer, and required Kataiahs' attention. As each came in, they were put under anesthesia so conversation could take place between Kataiahs and his team, as he came to think of them. And, though still groggy and confined to a cot, Nick was conscious enough to participate, with everyone in clean hospital garb and masks.

"...and I find it particularly disturbing," Jack was saying, "that they knew exactly where Kurt and Blackwell were."

"I hate to restate the obvious," Kataiahs said, extracting a bullet from a ferret's shoulder, "but your communications have been compromised."

"The only problem with that," Jack pointed out, "is that they were under comms blackout. I gave them orders to take position without informing anyone of where they were, and only report by encoded burst text transmission. I am told messages under 100 words are impossible to trace. They were told to keep them below twenty, and they only sent two messages, hours apart."

Kataiahs considered that while sewing up the wound. "It does seem very unlikely," he said, tying up the sutures. "Unless your entire system is compromised. Although there is no technology currently available in Mammaldom to do that."

"Or," murmured Nick from the cot, "you have a spy."

"We know about Packland," Skye agreed. "Maybe there is someone else we missed?"

"When the phones are working again, we can check with Matilda," Jack proposed. "See if any new information has cropped up."

"I don't suppose the wounded know anything useful?" Reggie asked.

"Nothing so far," Kataiahs confessed, somewhat embarrassed. "I have been discreetly asking them while they go under anesthesia."

Trina cleared her throat. "You should tell them, sir," she said, firmly.

"Tell them what?" Nick asked.

"They are members of the Grey Heart Brigade," the black doe answered, distastefully.

"Here? In Bunnyburrow?" Jack said, surprised.

"Grey who?" Elena asked.

"Grey Heart Brigade," Skye told them. "A terrorist faction mostly active Mid-continent. I didn't know there were any operatives in Zootopia."

"Guess they only had that small army," Nick quipped, "makes them much harder to detect."

"Give it a rest," Judy chided her mate. "Who are they, and what do they want?"

"There have always been those who believed Mammaldom did best under Tuzhei rule," Kataiahs recounted, doing a final inspection of his patient. "Over the years, struggling mammals have exaggerated the tales of prosperity, ignoring the obvious faults of the Empire under the yoke of their own troubles." The lynx paused while two of Judy's brothers came in and took the patient away, another pair quickly following with a new one. Trina put the anesthesia mask over the injured hedgehog. Kataiahs leaned down to whisper into the groggy mammal's ear.

"Long live… the… Emp...i…" was all the response he got. Quickly getting to work with Trina expertly handing him instruments, the lynx continued.

"After the Canine Wars, when the Empire fragmented," he told them, "what is now Grandterre was believed by many to be the rightful...heirs to the Empire. For many years, so did Grandterre, and they did their best to bring the old pieces of the Empire back together. Usually through violence."

"Not our proudest moment," Trina mumbled, passing him a scalpel.

"It is all in the past," the lynx said. "To go on, the rest of Mammaldom was not keen on the idea of a restored Empire and protested quite vigorously."

"You mean the Hundred Year War?" Jack supplied.

"Among others," Kataiahs said, pulling out a bullet. "The Southern nations remained neutral, determined to preserve Zootopia intact. Back then, the entire South was pro-Zootopia. That left the remaining nations balanced. Perhaps too balanced: the ensuing stalemate is what made the wars last so long. So, I decided to intervene. I set up the Matriarchy in Grandterre, removing the old Imperial bloodline from the ruling class, and that was enough to end the wars."

"Set up the Matriarchy?" Elena asked. "How? Did the old ruling class simply agree to that?"

Kataiahs laughed. "Nothing that simple, of course," he said. "It took several decades. And some... persuading."

"How many did you kill?" Jack wondered.

"Personally?" the lynx said, innocently. "Not a single one. But there might have been some who interpreted my intentions along those lines. Nobody, not even the Granterrines, wanted the wars to continue. Eventually, when the old bloodline was almost wiped out, they decided the Matriarchy was an amenable alternative. They still maintained their wealth and prominence, just not their direct rulership. The old Imperial blood runs strong through the Matriarchs, just not exclusively; all said, they have turned out most impressive."

"History lesson aside," Nick commented, "how does this 'Grey Heart Brigade' tie in?"

"Slavery," Trina answered, bitterly. "They were born of slavery."

"They were slaves?" Judy asked. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Not slaves," Kataiahs clarified. "Slave _owners_."

"The Hyuxin Rebellion," Jack added while the lynx removed a bullet fragment. "I never tied in the name; makes sense, however."

"Care to enlighten us?" Nick said.

"Hyuxin roughly translates to Grey Heart," the striped buck told him. "Lord Hyuxin was a prominent Grandterrine scholar who advocated the reinstatement of the Empire. He wrote a series of treatises on the benefits of Imperial rule, and how it could be easily reinstated with general acceptance without violence."

"Yes," Kataiahs admitted. "It was brilliant. But he forgot that most of Mammaldom objected to one particular requirement: slavery. Perhaps owning several thousand slaves clouded his personal judgement on the matter. When the Matriarch finally had enough of his pushing the matter at every Council session, she made slavery illegal in Grandterre in a very a close vote."

"Effectively killing any chance of resurrecting the Empire," Jack concluded.

"And he didn't take it well, I guess," Nick said.

"He was a good mammal," Kataiahs recounted. "Once overruled, he accepted the decision of the Council. His followers, however, did not. They planted a bomb in the Council chamber; it killed many, including Lord Hyuxin."

"And the Matriarch," Jack added. "It was the first successful assassination of a Matriarch." Trina almost corrected him about the fate of her ancestor, but Kataiahs shook his head; there was no need to rewrite History, even if it was wrong.

"There was a lot of rubbish written about Lord Hyuxin 'giving his life for the movement,'" Kataiahs went on. "Though, in truth, he was killed because he opposed it."

"How long ago was this?" Nick asked.

"About a hundred and fifty years," Jack said. Kataiahs nodded.

"Long time to hold a grudge," Nick mumbled.

"They're more like a cult," Trina told him. "Worshipping the old Empire like some deity, doing whatever it takes to resurrect it."

"They were supposedly wiped out in the Commonwealth," Skye noted. "I guess we will have to update that opinion."

"Did you notice their weapons?" Kataiahs hinted.

"Yeah," Jack said. "Ruylanian, not Commonwealth. They're getting support from outside." The buck jumped up. "Arthur's wife!" He exclaimed, starting to pace. "Candace. She was sleeping with a Ruylanian agent who Arthur killed the night before he resigned. He cited not noticing the affair for so long as a main reason for his resigning." He stopped, slapping his paws together. "Patricia Packland! Her family immigrated as refugees from Ruylania."

Skye tilted her head. "I first met Octavio Belyiklyk while he served at the Baratean Embassy in Ruylania three years ago," she said. "Just before his assignment in Zootopia."

"I think we have a pattern here," Judy said.

"I'm not sure I'd call it a pattern, Fluff," Nick said, thoughtfully. "But there are too many mentions of Ruylania for it to be just a coincidence."

"What do we know about them?" Elena asked.

"Secretive," Jack said. "With a history of aggression towards Bunnyburrow."

"Gengris Bun's brother thought he deserved a bigger kingdom," Kataiahs said with disgust. "They've been sniping at Bunnyburrow since it was founded."

Jack's phone buzzed, making everyone look at the device. "Guess we have phones," the buck said, answering. "Hello, Matty," he said, cheerfully. "Just the mammal I wanted to speak with."

_"You survived, then,"_ the sheep replied. _"Good. I really didn't want to run the entire Agency."_

Jack put the phone on speaker mode. "That sounds really ominous, Matty. How bad is it?" Matilda gave Jack a rundown on the casualties.

_"They were mostly small operations, two or three hostiles per team,"_ Matilda informed them. _"Very well coordinated and supplied. But most were not very smart, like a bunch of amateurs hastily thrown into a long planned op."_

"I suppose we were the exception," Jack said. "We were hit by over forty mammals. Apparently, Grey Heart Brigade."

_"GHB? In Bunnyburrow?"_ the sheep said with disbelief, then paused before continuing. _"There have been mentions of faded tattoos,"_ she continued. _"We'll have to look into it when the dust settles."_

"I'm going to put Reggie Todwell in charge of S&T," Jack said. "Any objections?"

_"The computer geek?"_ Matilda said, doubtfully.

"Hey," Reggie protested. "I'm right here, you know!"

_"Hi, Reggie,"_ the sheep greeted, unabashedly. _"No offense, but you've always told me you didn't care much about tech that wasn't software."_ The tod blushed.

"Well, my eyes have recently been opened to the joys of hardware," he replied, eyes on Elena's. "I-I can do the job, Matilda. I know I can. Yes. I got this. Come to think about it, it won't be any harder than—"

_"And you realize it's going to make you a target, right?"_ Matilda pushed. "_They're still scraping Director Eastmore off his patio doors."_ Reggie cringed, but Elena squeezed his paw, making him sit up straight.

"Matilda," he said, defiantly. "I've been a live target all day; I learned how to duck."

"That's the spirit!" Jack said, clapping. "His first task will be to make a new encryption protocol for the comm systems." Matilda immediately grasped the point.

"_About time,"_ she said, chuckling casually. "_OK. I'm on my way to the station to pick up a hot ram for dinner, Jack. I'll check in with you later. Try to stay out of trouble."_

"Give my regards to the boys," he told her, giving the final go for Ramstein's team to leave for Baratea.

"_Will do,"_ Matilda acknowledged, then hanged up.

"Shouldn't we have told her about the weapons?" Judy asked, confused.

"Not when we doubt our comms are secure," Jack told her. "We didn't really communicate anything our potential eavesdroppers would not know."

"Except for putting me in charge of S&T," Reggie mumbled.

"There are not many other candidates suitable for the job, Reggie," Skye reassured. "You are probably already on any 'list' of critical personnel our enemy has put together, if their information is as good as it seems."

"Not a comfort, Skye," Reggie murmured. Elena stroked his paw, nuzzling his cheek.

There was a loud rumbling, making everyone stare at Nick.

"Hey," he complained. "It's been a long time since breakfast and I only had berries for lunch."

"That was the last patient," Kataiahs said, taking off the surgical gloves. "I propose we take our cue from Nick and break for dinner."

"I second," said Jack. "I am famished enough to eat a bugburger." Nick's stomach growled even louder.

* * *

_7:45 PM_

"I'm parked at the curb," Matilda told Marcus, towing the large ram by the hoof towards the grey car parked in front of one of Savannah Central's many side entrances. A ZPD traffic officer was standing in front of the car, running the license plate in preparation to writing a citation. The officer looked up as the two sheep approached.

"I know you know this is a no parking zone," the uniformed gazelle scolded.

"Official business," Matilda replied officiously, showing him her ZIA ID.

"I don't care if you're the Mayor," the officer said, pulling out his citation pad to the amusement of several passersby. "You're still getting a ticket." Standing by the trunk of the grey car, Marcus was about to enter into the argument when something caught his attention.

"Matty," he said, bending down to look under the vehicle. "Something's blinking back here."

"What?" she said, turning to look at him.

* * *

_8:02 PM_

The Hopps kitchen was busy serving late dinner as the burrow slowly returned to normal. Several armed bunnies were out patrolling the property in large groups, just to be sure no hostile stragglers remained. Those on the patrols had been first to eat, with the remainder of the burrow just now being served.

Judy's group commandeered the table under the TV, which provided the most privacy. The sound from the large monitor was loud enough to reach the entire dining area while leaving the table beneath quiet enough to hold a conversation. A BunnyVision news flash caught the group's attention, the bulletin starting with a colorful depiction of an exploding stick of dynamite that shrank to a picture next to a somber-faced rabbit.

_"Today's unprecedented outbreak of violence continues throughout the Commonwealth,"_ the news anchor began_, "as just moments ago, an explosion rocked Zootopia's Savannah District. We now go live, to our own Darcy Brightpaw, for details outside Savannah Central Train Station. Darcy?"_

_"Yes, Roger,"_ came the voice of a pretty bunny doe, the screen changing to a view with smoke rising behind the bunny from the burning remains of an automobile in front of Savannah Central, half a block away. _"As you can see behind me,"_ the doe continued, _"the violence that has shaken the Commonwealth rages on."_ The camera zoomed in briefly to show several injured mammals strewn around, with others milling about attempting to render first aid, then zoomed back out to show the reporter.

_"Our Zootopia office is located only half a block from the station, allowing us to bring you this _exclusive _live footage," _the reporter announced. _"About 10 minutes ago, our office shook from the force of an explosion, apparently from the vehicle you can see still burning in front of the station." The camera zoomed again to the burning vehicle. "First responders are just beginning to arrive at this horrific scene."_

The sound of sirens could be heard approaching, then an ambulance and a firetruck raced past the camera, coming to a stop close to the burning vehicle, firefighters and EMTs spilling out of the emergency vehicles to deal with the situation. Police cars also arrived, parking their cruisers crosswise to block the road.

_"While we don't know the cause of the explosion,"_ the bunny continued. _"Given the day's events, it is reasonable to speculate an explosive device and, considering the location of the vehicle—a designated no-parking zone—we cannot rule out an intentional attack on the train station."_

Skye's in-drawn breath brought the group's attention to her.

"Didn't Matilda say she was picking up Marcus at Savannah Station?" she gasped.

"Bloody hell!" Jack exclaimed.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**There is a lot going on trying to keep our heroes off-balance. Will it work? We'll find out soon!**

**As always, thanks for reading!**


	8. Wherever you go

**Author's Note:**

**Whew. It's been a while, I know. Real life just has its way of eating up one's time.**

**I wish everyone well and a safe time, hopefully this installment will alleviate the boredom/stress of the current world situation. I, myself, have been sent to work from home, though it still leaves me little enough time.**

**I didn't mean to leave a cliff-hanger going for so long.**

**This is a looong chapter. Not as edited as I would like, but (I hope) good enough.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Fifteen minutes ago..._

Matilda was close to a full-blown panic attack. Jack's earlier hints at unsecure communications made her instantly suspicious of Marcus's discovery. Combined with the day's long string of assassinations, she went into flight mode.

"Bomb!" she yelled while desperately looking for somewhere safe to flee. With so many mammals walking about, however, there was really nowhere to go. "Run for your dammed lives!" she shouted at the crowd now staring disdainfully at her, pushing as many away from the car as she could.

Watching from the other side of the vehicle, Marcus went into overdrive, with the big ram having much better success at pushing others away. The police officer found himself alone by the car, frozen for a brief moment with a look of confusion on his face until the memory of Matilda's ZIA badge returned, triggering his own flight response.

All three moved as fast as they could, shouting and shoving as many others along as possible until the night erupted with the flash of an explosion, tossing mammals in every direction.

* * *

_8:05 PM_

The movie was mildly entertaining, Octavio admitted to himself sitting in the back row of the half-empty theater, even if it was not his usual style. Chia and Windbright, however, were completely engrossed in the animated feature, The Unbelievables. One on each side, his wives cuddled against him, their unspoken body language clearly stating 'mine' to any observing mammal with the threat of bodily harm to any interloper. The wolf stroked their backs affectionately, making them preen silently, their eyes locked on the screen. The others had remained in the cabin, tired from a full day of exploring all the large airliner had to offer.

So very strange, he thought again, this love thing. Taunted as a weakness by many in the Empire, Octavio's opinion on the matter had changed dramatically over the past few days. Sure, it could cause irrational behavior as victims defied all logic for love, but it could also motivate them to great lengths. Octavio found it a source of strength, knowing his wives depended on him while supporting him at the same time. He knew, for example, that he should be apprehensive about his current situation, finally having come to accept the Pack was not the pillar of fidelity he had once believed and even fought for—the arrest warrant at the Zootopia aerodrome had completely disintegrated that notion.

First Chia, then Palila, Windbright, and Abigail. Their love gave him the confidence and determination to face and defy The Pack. His wives would stand by him, whatever ensued, giving support or even their lives if necessary. And he would give his life as well, if need be, to ensure their safety and prosperity. They all shared a common dream: The return of greatness to the Empire. A beacon in this modern world that could serve as an example to others.

The seeds were there; had always been: The Written Traditions spoke of tolerance, equality, and prosperity for all. Baratea was the oldest, continuous surviving nation in Mammaldom. They had simply lost their way.

Octavio was prepared to guide, cajole, or terrorize them back on course. With the help—and love—of his wives.

Windbright noticed his arousal first, cupping her paw over his bulging crotch. Then Chia picked up his scent and began nibbling at his neck, her paw pulling up his waist band to let Windbright's paw slip inside. The wolfess stroked his chest while the snow leopardess stroked his malehood. Chia giggled softly at Windbright's involuntary purring, just a little jealous at her sister wife's ability to display affection in that manner.

"This is the Captain," came an accented voice suddenly over the PA. "I apologize for any interruptions. Would passenger Octavio Belyiklyk please report to the nearest purser? I repeat. Would passenger Octavio Belyiklyk please report to the nearest purser? Thank you."

Octavio's hackles rose, his breathing slowing and his ears flattening. "Something is wrong," he whispered. Chia and Windbright were already sitting straight, all hints of playfulness gone. It was Chia who pinpointed what was bothering them.

"This is a Baratean airship," she whispered back. "They would _never_ address my lord by his proper name, even if he were under arrest."

"We've been hijacked," Windbright concluded.

* * *

_Twelve minutes ago_

Matilda's car was brand new, with a weak spot built on top of the fuel cells to rupture upwards in case of what the engineers called a 'catastrophic containment failure.' This guided the force of the explosion up through the trunk floor, where it lost energy vaporizing the thin sheet metal. Next, the force went up again, through the back seat, this time losing energy consuming the thick, cushioned fabric, then losing even more energy while expanding into the main cabin. Lastly, the safety glass windows turned into powder, consuming more energy while the explosion escaped past them out of the vehicle, as designed—without creating the dreaded, jagged metal fragments known as 'shrapnel'.

There was still the fireball and the much dissipated concussive wave from the explosion, but those didn't cause penetrating wounds. As such, the only immediate fatality was an elderly sow, who died from the fright of it all. Broken bones and burns were plentiful but, all in all, it was minor damage compared to what could have been a major disaster. Nor did the street run across the main open entryways to the station, limiting the number of mammals exposed to the blast.

Matilda found herself face down in the grass, mere inches away from a palm tree in the park across the street. Her ears rang, her fur smelled singed, and there was blood in her mouth to accompany the pain of her bitten tongue. She managed to sit on the second try, regaining her bearings first, then recalled why she was there instead of in her comfortable bed and judged herself in good shape under the circumstances. Her eyes popped wide open.

"Marcus!" she screamed, rising to her feet and running towards the burning wreckage.

* * *

_8:11 PM_

"Get to the cabin, my love," Octavio told Chia. "Discreetly." The wolfess bristled.

"I will not abandon you," she grumbled, very displeased with her husband's request. He stroked her cheek.

"I would be honored to have you at my side," he said. "But if they know I am on board, they know where our cabin is. Palila is there, alone, to protect the others. In her current condition, I would prefer she had some assistance."

"And Windbright?" Chia pouted, conflicted.

"She is combat trained, my love," he reminded her. "She knows how to deal with armed mammals—and the Snow Leopard Corps practices retaking airships." The wolfess deflated at that, knowing it was true.

"I will not let any harm come to our husband," Windbright assured her, fiercely. "We depend on you to keep the others safe."

"We cannot do anything without knowing the family is out of harm's way," Octavio added, nuzzling Chia gently. "They have a greater need for you."

"And this might be nothing more than a rude captain," the snow leopardess said, cajolingly.

"I will be very cross if either of you get hurt," Chia growled, then slinked her way to the stairs and out of the theater.

"I admit to not paying very much attention, my lord," Windbright mumbled when the wolfess was gone. "But I have seen nothing to make me suspect there were hijackers on board."

"Which only means these are not ordinary hijackers, but have a very specific agenda," Octavio surmised. "Professionals."

"A big assumption, my lord," the leopardess said, frowning.

"Perhaps, as you said," Octavio ventured, "it is simply a rude captain." Windbright stifled a laugh.

Perversely, Octavio thought, as opposed to Windbright's, his training had been on how _to_ _hijack_ an airship. His mind ran through likely scenarios.

"We should assume between ten and twenty operatives," he whispered. "More would be obvious, fewer, impractical for a ship this size." Windbright nodded. "We also must assume that I am a target of opportunity, since there are much easier and less risky methods for getting to me."

"Slavers?"

"Only if they wish war," Octavio said, grimly. "This is our national airline. The Empire would be honor-bound to respond to such an affront. It makes no economic sense for slavers to hijack it."

"Robbery?" Windbright said, then shook her head. "No. That makes no sense, either."

"We simply do not have enough information to guess at their motives, nor do they matter," Octavio said, his muzzle twitching. "They ruined my evening," he growled. "Now I shall ruin theirs."

* * *

_Ten minutes ago_

"Marcus!" Matilda called out, stepping around, sometimes over, unconscious mammals on the ground. She stumbled on, inching her way towards where she remembered seeing him last. The flames from the burning car rose hotly but harmlessly upwards, the vehicle fortuitously parked where the night breeze blowing over the train station sucked the smoke and noxious fumes away like a chimney. Of course, the mammals living downwind might not feel so fortuitous, even though the smoke mostly dissipated before reaching any occupied buildings.

Matilda started rolling over soot-covered mammals to look at their faces, growing more desperate with each one she saw. She was in shock, not paying much attention to size or even species. Only the face of her lover ingrained in her mind held any meaning, and she was determined to find a match.

Other mammals emerging from the station were beginning to help, if only to guide those wandering about dazed to a safe distance away from the flaming vehicle. Before long, someone took hold of Matilda's hoof.

"Come on, Miss," said the mammal, almost in a whisper. "Let's get you somewhere safe."

She brushed him off, stooping down to examine yet another face. "I have to find Marcus," she mumbled in return, crying now as this next face didn't belong to her lover, either.

The mammal took hold of her hoof again. Tightly, this time. "Matty?" he said, pulling her up. "Is that you?"

His voice registered at last. She looked up to see an ash and blood covered face, several small cuts on his forehead that looked worse than they were. But it was him.

"Marcus!" she cried, relieved, then wrapped her arms around him, burying her head against his chest.

* * *

_8:15 PM_

Discreet was not something usually associated with an Imperial Princess. Chia was no exception to this. She strode down the passageway as if she owned the airship—which, to be fair, she technically did as Heir Apparent—and there was no mistaking the wolfess as anything but a Royal, regardless how much her demeanor had softened in the past days. She gracefully acknowledged the bows from various crew members and Baratean passengers—something unusual for an Imperial Princess. Most definitely not discreet.

She hid her apprehension with the ease of long practice, never even blinking when one crewmammal's shifting eyes warned her of danger lurking behind the cracked-open doorway of a maintenance compartment. The wolfess simply made her way to the cabin, a warm smile on her face, seemingly without a care in the world.

Mindful of the camera at the end of the hallway, she politely greeted the out-of-place panther standing by the door. The feline not bowing the moment she appeared was all the confirmation she needed that he was not a real member of the flight crew.

"Allow me," he said, skillfully opening the crew lock without Chia catching sight of the key card.

"We aren't in any danger, are we?" Chia inquired with concern.

"There have been reports of violence breaking throughout the Zootopian Commonwealth," was the cool reply. "Since our flight originated in Zootopia, the captain merely wishes to ensure no trouble disturbs our First Class passengers." That this was the only guarded door in the First Class section did not seem to bother the panther.

"That is very considerate of him," Chia said, sweetly. "Thank you for your service." She daintily held out her paw and the panther bowed to kiss it, another incriminating sign of ignorance since she only wore her wedding ring, not the Royal Signet. There wouldn't be a lot of time, but she decided it was not a good idea to be locked in their quarters from the outside.

Especially when the guards did not work for her.

It was easier than she expected. Wait until the panther kissed the ring, then bite down on his face over the eyes, blinding him. It was also bloodier than expected. She kicked him away as she bit down, avoiding the instinctive clawing from the screaming panther, then quickly stepped into the cabin to find the others bound and gagged on the floor.

Rushing over to free Palila first, she almost lost heart when she saw they were bound with thick, plastic tie-bands. She removed the polar bear's gag.

"We have little time," Chia said, hurriedly. "I must find something to cut through these bands."

"My nail clippers are in my grooming kit," Palila told her. "Under the bed."

The wolfess practically dove over her sister wife, reaching under the large bed to drag out the heavy grooming kit. The polar bear's nail clipper was the size of a bolt cutter in Chia's paws and cut through the tough plastic band with ease.

Once free, Palila growled furiously and dashed out of the cabin before Chia could say anything. The screams from the panther in the hallway ended abruptly.

Chia freed Alexandra next, then Abigail. "Where is Fabian?" Chia asked, referring to Octavio's otter assistant. Alexandra shook her head.

"They… k-killed him," she said, sniffling. "He tried… to defend us—he injured one of them… then… they… b-broke his neck."

Chia pulled the bunny into a fierce hug. "He will be avenged," she assured, keeping her own anger in check. "For now, we must find somewhere safe."

* * *

_8:17 PM_

Chief Bogo stepped out of the police cruiser and took in the scene at the train station, a deep anger brewing inside the Cape buffalo. Not from a failure to prevent such a crime; after all, his officers were not trained for this like the ZBI and ZIA were.

No. What angered him was that _Zootopians_ were committing these crimes.

Regardless of any foreign involvement there might be, at the end of the day, Zootopians were killing Zootopians. Not for food, or money, or even personal reasons. They were killing for politics—or, worse: Ideology.

The Chief watched as his bomb disposal crews searched the area for more explosives in case this was a first-responder trap. Several ambulances had also arrived on scene, including an emergency mobile surgical center set up a safe distance away on the pedestrian area in front of the station. Every injured mammal was examined, those judged to be OK allowed to go on their way. Those who were not, were taken to nearby hospitals.

The Fire Department had extinguished the blaze using plenty of foam, as water might have caused anything remaining in the fuel cells to reignite. The Fire Marshall, a Dalmatian named Frederick, noticed Bogo and approached after signing a form on a clipboard held by an assistant.

"Adrienne," he greeted the larger mammal. "Heard about Marcus, I take it?"

"Huh?" the Chief said, confused. "What about him? He's in Bunnyburrow."

The Dalmatian shook his head. "Right over there," he said, pointing to the ram sitting impatiently on a bench near the surgical center. "Did you know he's dating a spook?"

"Well," the Chief replied, chuckling, grateful to find something amusing in this situation. "He's basically one, himself. Let's go see what he thinks about this mess."

* * *

_8:20 PM_

"I was paged," Octavio said, impatiently, to the brown hare purser standing by the main escalator. The smaller mammal reeked of fear, eyes not quite glancing at the security camera in the far corner of the deck as he bowed respectfully.

"My lord," he said with forced calm. "The Captain requests a moment of your time on the Control Deck."

"Does he, now," Octavio growled. "Very well. Take me to him."

"I may not leave my post," the hare apologized, bowing. "Someone will be here shortly to… escort you." That last was said in a warning tone. "Mind the stairs, my lord. They are a little shaky at the bottom, very easy to lose one's step on."

Octavio grinned. "I shall, indeed, be careful," he said under his breath.

Within a few minutes, a tiger wearing the uniform of a flight officer came up the escalator. The rabbit trembled noticeably at the feline's approach, much to the amusement of the tiger.

"I have already eaten," the predator chuckled. Then he looked menacingly at the hare. "Perhaps a snack later on, though." Octavio laughed as the hare squirmed.

"Let us not keep the good Captain waiting," said the wolf. "I would like to return to my wives quickly."

"Of course," the tiger said, politely indicating the downwards escalator. "This way, sir."

Octavio took the lead, followed closely by the tiger. The next lower deck showed no signs of anything amiss, passengers going about the airship with that casual air of a holiday, as usual on long flights. As the two descended, passenger traffic decreased, then ceased altogether, with access to the lowest level, the Control Deck, only possible through a regular staircase blocked by a door labeled "Crew Members Only."

The sound of machinery became louder the deeper they went, their vibrations traveling through the stairs and walls. Octavio's ears folded slightly back in apparent response to the noise, though really so he could better track the tiger behind him.

At last, Octavio could see the spot the purser had mentioned. It would be suitable for his needs.

"I am surprised that Lord Dermont could have such a change of heart over his employees," the wolf said, amusedly, by way of casual conversation. The tiger grunted.

"I am sure he knows what he is doing," he replied. "It is not always easy for the common citizens to understand the higher reasonings of the Nobility."

"He is amazingly cheap," Octavio chuckled mirthlessly, nearly at the bottom now. "Even for a beaver."

Octavio tripped on the loose step, lurching forward. The tiger instinctively reached out to steady the wolf, only to find himself grabbed by the arm and tossed over Octavio's shoulder. The wolf wrapped his arms around the tumbling feline's neck in passing, letting gravity snap the spine with a sickening crunch. He leaned over, looking the tiger in the eyes.

"Lord Dermont went as far as to make it _illegal _for Borealis Air to hire mammals larger than a fox to work aboard its airships," Octavio informed the dying mammal.

Then the white wolf raised his head and let out a blood-curdling howl, sprinting forward on all fours as he went on the hunt.

* * *

_8:22 PM_

Marcus looked up in surprise at the approaching water buffalo.

"I hope you didn't come just to see me," the ram said, wryly. "You should be home after your afternoon's escapades."

Chief Bogo snorted. "Didn't even know you were here until Freddie pointed you out," he chuckled.

"Sorry for all the hoopla," Marcus apologized. "It never occurred to us we would be targeted, let alone found that easily." Bogo tilted his head, confused.

"Targeted?"

Marcus nodded. "That was Matty's car," he said, nodding towards the burnt out shell covered in foam. "There was something blinking attached to the fuel cells. Luckily, we noticed it."

"Matty?" the Chief asked. "You're dating Matilda Ewing?"

"You have a problem with that?" Matilda called out from the steps of the surgical center. "You must be Chief Bogo." She stepped up to the massive buffalo and held out her hoof. "Pleasure to finally meet you face to face."

Bogo chuckled, shaking the proffered hoof gently. "Likewise," he said. "So, what is this about something blinking attached to the fuel cells?"

* * *

_8:25 PM_

Windbright had been trained once upon a time on how to make her way around an airship's vents. Finding one she could access had not been very difficult, just a matter of going into an empty lavatory. Now she crawled through the ductwork, careful not to make any noise, winding her way to the Engineering section two decks below.

That was a critical compartment for any would-be hijackers to occupy, even more so than the control room. From the Engineering section, a hijacker could operate the entire ship if they had the proper training, regardless of what anyone in the main control room did.

Windbright swore under her breath. Of course, such trained hijackers would know this and try to prevent others from doing what she was trying to do. She barely spotted the motion sensor in time, its telltale ready-light nothing more than a faint brightening of the darkness ahead to her sensitive eyes. The device waited—likely fastened to the top surface of the duct with a suction cup—just around an intersection she needed to cross.

Slowly backing up past the preceding intersection, she crawled her way forward into that side vent. While in the lavatory, Windbright had filled her small purse with liquid soap for just this eventuality, ruining the only expensive personal item she owned in the process. She grinned: She could afford a better one now.

The leopardess brought her tail forward, dipping the tip into the purse and cringing at the feel of the cold, slimy liquid. She used her paw to slick down as much of the fur as possible with the soap, leaving her tail a fraction of its normal width, and hoping it would be good enough.

Carefully backing into the main vent, her tail became a feeler as she approached the intersection guarded by the motion sensor. Now everything depended on how cautious the hijackers were. Her tail felt the corner. Slowly, she inched closer, her tail rising to the top.

The motion sensor would be set to trigger only on something large. Not much smaller than a mouse, else bugs and other pests would constantly set it off. Or so her trainers had told her, but now, outside the classroom, she wondered if they had been overly optimistic.

No time for doubts. Pressing against the top surface, her tail crept along the vent, sweeping slowly, like a gravity-defying serpent in search of prey. There.

Windbright slapped hard with her tail, sending the device tumbling along the vent. If her instructors really knew what they were teaching, the hijackers would believe the device had simply become detached.

Time to put their lessons to the test.

She carefully pulled her tail back and made it to the previous intersection again to turn around—she couldn't depend on only one motion sensor being present. The feline sighed. No gear, no weapons, no backup. At least she, unlike many others she knew, had kept herself in peak physical condition after she received her title, or she wouldn't even fit in the vent.

Of course, another month from now she wouldn't fit, either. Windbright purred. Irregular or not, Octavio had rescued her and her unborn kits from a life of ostracism. The scandal would be felt throughout the Empire, legal or not, but her kits would have an honorable father.

_Stop woolgathering_, she chided herself, carefully peering ahead. She couldn't see signs of any other sensors, so she pushed on to the main ventral duct.

* * *

_8:32 PM_

"Is that a wolf howl?" asked the black bear, incredulously, to the polar bear in charge.

The control room of the airship was large enough for the bears and their associates, though it was a tight fit for the massive ursines. The real flight crew were bound in one corner, their Captain, a fox with a bloodied face, starting to chuckle.

The polar bear took notice of the Captain. "You find something amusing, pelt?" he growled menacingly.

The fox spat out blood. "You wanted Lord Belyiklyk," he sneered. "I hope you are ready for him."

The black bear guffawed. "Just another wolf," he laughed. "How tough can he be?"

The entire flight crew choked down their own laughter, to the annoyance of the two bears. The other hijackers in the room, two panthers, a badger, and a jackal, were slightly unnerved by the flight crew's reaction.

The polar bear growled at his crew. "You think a _wolf_ can take me?" he snarled. "How long have you known me, and you can still imagine a _wolf_ is more than my lunch?"

The others averted their eyes, shifting about uncomfortably.

"Belyiklyk has a reputation," one of the panthers said, respectfully. "We should be cautious."

"I am always cautious," the polar bear grumbled, warningly. "I got us this far, didn't—?"

_"Number One,"_ interrupted the polar bear's walkie-talkie. _"Number Three is down. Repeat. Number Three is down. By the stair—"_ Static followed.

The leader grabbed the communicator from his belt, raising it to his muzzle. Before he could speak, another howl echoed through the control deck.

"That makes two," the bound Captain said with satisfaction, only to be kicked unconscious by the polar bear.

* * *

_8:32 PM_

Chief Bogo grunted as Matilda finished her recap of the explosion.

"I would have to agree our vaunted 'Secure Communications System' is not so secure anymore," he said, worriedly, to the couple. Marcus had taken her hoof in his as she spoke and neither showed any sign of letting go. "Something like today would take months to plan."

"Probably, years," Marcus said. "But they would still need up-to-date information on their specific targets."

"We're dealing with a massive sleeper network, able to coordinate, plan, and collect intelligence without our notice," Matilda went on. "Regardless of how it looks today, we're not that incompetent."

"Unless our comms are totally compromised," agreed the water buffalo. "How does this tie in with Jack's investigation?" The Chief pulled the jammer Judy had given him, currently glowing green, from his pocket.

Matilda shook her head. "Jack didn't give me any specifics other than telling me that particular lead was neutral, at worst," she replied. "Proactively friendly, for the most part. He promised 'a most comprehensive briefing' in the near future."

The Chief grunted. "Lionheart mentioned an Article 14 operation," he said in a hushed voice. "Are things that bad?"

"Yes," Matilda told him. "And the less you know, the better. But the Article 14 was planned before today's bloodbath, and we do not believe it is directly related."

"Are my officers safe?" Bogo asked, pointedly.

"None of us are safe right now," the sheep countered. "ZIA is in shambles, ZBI has been gutted, the ZDF, decapitated and on a hair trigger. We're lucky you and the Mayor survived, unlike a third of the Commonwealth Council, not to mention the continuing fallout from the Packland case. If I were to bet, today's activities are closer related to the recent demonstrations and riots. Maybe some connection to Packland—no. Not maybe. There _Is_ a connection, we just haven't figured out what it is—yet." She pointed a hoof at Bogo's chest. "But we will. Let Jack handle the external ops, with the Article 14; he's good at that. It's up to _us_ to get Zootopia back under control."

Officer Delgato ran up, carrying Bogo's secure phone from the cruiser. "Chief," he called out. "You're gonna need this. Six airships veered off-course after their hijack alarms went off about forty-five minutes ago. Apparently, AeroAdmin's security chief has been missing since this morning, so someone finally decided to call us."

"Oh, just great," the water buffalo huffed.

* * *

_8:40 PM_

A dwarf polar bear, a giant, very pregnant bunny, and an elegant white wolfess spattered with blood. There was only one place Alexandra could think of where they stood a chance of remaining inconspicuous: the Borealis Night Club on the Promenade deck. Mother Chia didn't even try to override her decision, distracted as she was with worry over Father and Mother Windbright.

Assuming the hijackers didn't want an airship full of panicking mammals, they would have to conduct a quiet search for them. That seemed logical: Alexandra had only seen makeshift dart guns and knives on their attackers. They had tranqd Mother Palila from the door, then overpowered the rest. They were all large predators, so it had been relatively easy.

Alexandra never suspected Fabian had such heart, as surprised as their attackers when the diminutive otter launched himself at a mountain lion and bit off an ear before being caught and... killed. The bunny sniffled, angry at the otter's death. She would seek out his family and personally give her condolences and thanks when they reached Aurora. He also had a fiancee; they had planned to wed in the spring...

The group neared the night club entrance in the aft section of the airship, having avoided as many cameras as possible. A raccoon attendant stood by the door to check IDs, though it was still dinner time for most passengers so there was nobody waiting to get in. Catching sight of them, the attendant looked up, eyes going wide in recognition. He lowered his paw to his waist and waved them to stop, then disappeared into the club for a few seconds before coming back out.

"Hurry, your Highnesses," he told them, approaching quickly with his eyes scanning around nervously. "They are looking for you. I have reset the entrance camera, which only takes a minute. There are tables near the back that should give you some concealment." Rushing them to the entrance, he reached into his pocket and pressed a key card into Alexandra's paw. "This will open the rear exit. But, if you do so, the fire alarm will sound."

"Thank you," the bunny said, with relief, for all of them. "We shall remember your assistance."

Though the club was empty, the music inside was still loud. Alexandra and Abigail dropped their ears, wincing along with Chia at the cacophony. Palila was more at ease, the polar bear even tapping her feet in time to the beat.

The raccoon had been right. They found the mentioned tables, behind some support columns near the rear exit. They were obstructed from direct view of the entrance, and the twirling disco lights did not reach that far from the dance floor. Chia's eyes glowed eerily, her night vision already at work.

"This is a good place, Alexandra," she said, squeezing the bunny's paw. "We should have ample time to get out if anyone comes looking for us."

"We might even be able to dance," Abigail said, jokingly.

Palila stared at her sister wife. "You seem in high spirits," the polar bear commented, disbelievingly.

"It is not my first time being left bound and gagged on the floor," Abigail chuckled. "It _is _the first time I have had help getting untied, though. Thank you, sister Chia; it usually takes me two or three days to free myself."

"Mother Chia," Alexandra asked, shaking her head at her birth mother. "What is going on?"

Chia sighed. "We believe the airship has been hijacked," she told them. "Your father and Windbright will deal with it."

"Deal with it?" Alexandra said, worriedly.

"Yes," Chia reassured the bunny. "Your father is very resourceful—and he has Windbright to help. We simply need to remain safe while he does."

The wolfess concealed her anxiety well enough from the two bunnies, but Palila's nose wasn't fooled.

"Your father's reputation is not mere fancy," the polar bear said confidently, for Alexandra's sake, though looking directly at Chia. "He is a formidable mammal. I am certain he will bring the situation under control."

A vixen approached the table, her slim silhouette visible against the dance lights. She placed soft drinks and snacks on the table.

"Compliments of house," she said, sweetly. "Oh, I almost forgot." She set a heavy bundle wrapped in a thick, cloth napkin on the table. "Utensils," she told them, then walked away.

* * *

_8:45 PM_

"Borealis Air 1362," Matilda read Bogo's notes. "13...62...Oh, damm." Marcus and the Chief stared at her. She frowned.

"That's Octavio Belyiklyk's flight," she told them. Noticing their confusion, she sighed. "He and his family boarded that flight this morning."

"Isn't he…?" The Chief began.

"The one we thought was behind all this mess?" the sheep continued. "Yes. We know he is up to his eyeballs in the WildeHopps case, and the reason for the Article 14."

"You think he is hijacking his flight to cover his tracks?" the water buffalo asked. The sheep shook her head.

"No," she said, rubbing her eyes. "Their tickets were purchased at the last moment, from Octavio's personal account. They only had room on that flight because of a late cancellation."

"Coincidence?" Marcus said, without conviction.

"The hijacking, no," she theorized. "Him—and his new family—being on the flight, yes. There's no need for the drama or the risk."

Chief Bogo grumbled. "Why hijack six airships?"

"Better yet," Marcus said. "We all agree this took a long time to plan, so…"

Matilda grunted. "Why _those_ six airships?" she finished.

"We need the passenger lists," the Chief concluded.

* * *

_8:46 PM_

Pacing around the table, Jack tried dialing Matilda's phone for the tenth time since the news broadcast.

"I'm sure she's fine," Reggie told him, again, though it sounded forced. "We would have heard if something happened to her."

"Unless they can't find her body," Nick pointed out. Judy's ear flicked. "Ouch! Watch the eye!"

"We can try the Chief," Judy said, glaring at her husband. "He might have some _useful_ information."

Jack sighed, coming to a stop. "No," he said, resigned. "Reggie's right. Word will get to us if she's been hurt. We should avoid any unnecessary comm chatter under the circumstances."

"She's fine, Jack," Skye said, gently. "Matilda is tougher than nails; it would take more than a car bomb to ruffle that wool of hers."

"We should get some rest," Kataiahs said, standing up. "It has been a long day and we all have places to go in the morning. I can give you something to help you sleep, Jack, if you need."

Jack shook his head. "I'll be fine," he said, smiling ruefully. "I think it is more about not knowing what is happening than worry." He yawned. "And it has been quite an eventful day."

* * *

_8:46 PM_

The polar bear stared down dispassionately at the dead bodies of his third-in-command and his security chief. Both mammals had broken necks. Not surprising in the case of his security chief, a badger, but troubling in the case of his third-in-command, a large Bengal tiger. The polar bear had sent the tiger specifically because he was markedly larger than the white wolf.

There weren't any signs of a struggle, either. No blood, no ripped clothing, no scuffed paint. Just two dead bodies.

"_Number One_," came from his walkie-talkie, "_Number Eight is down. The Prize is gone._"

The polar bear roared in frustration. "What happened?" he growled into the radio.

_"We're checking the video now,"_ came the response, then a pause. _"The Prize returned, disabled Number Eight, then went inside. The Child Bride came out shortly and finished him off. Then they all went into a service stairwell, and there are only cameras at the top and bottom floors. We don't know on what deck they exited."_

"What about the door locks?" the bear demanded, angrily. "What do the security logs show?"

_"N-nothing,"_ came the voice, shakily. _"They took Number Eight's key card."_

The bear squeezed the walkie-talkie, but stopped short of damaging it. "Understood," he growled. "Keep your positions."

Number Eight's key card was one of the main tools they had used in taking over the airship. It was a Master Passkey, with an added hack to make its use undetectable by the airship's security system.

Now it was being used against him.

From somewhere in the deck, a defiant wolf howl echoed through the halls.

* * *

_8:50 PM_

_Five predators_, Windbright thought to herself. Assuming she hadn't missed anyone, and that the mammals tied in the corner were crew and not decoys.

She had managed to make her way to the Engineering room, after nearly slipping to her death because of her soapy tail. Her paws would be sore for days from catching herself before hitting the bottom of the ventral duct. At least the machinery noise had masked the sound of her near-disaster.

The Engineering room was large but cramped with pipes, conduits, and control panels, preventing larger mammals from entering easily—one reason Octavio had sent her here.

Two foxes, a jaguar, a hyena, and a badger. The jaguar would be her most dangerous opponent if they were unarmed. As it was, they all carried makeshift dart guns not, she hoped, of the lethal variety.

The air ducts were considered auxiliary maintenance corridors to take advantage of the smaller mammals in the aircrew. They provided easy, out of sight access to many otherwise unreachable systems, therefore requiring critical covers to be openable from inside of the ducts.

Critical covers like the one in the Engineering room.

But the hijackers would notice the cover opening unless she could find a way to distract them—not the easiest task to accomplish from the other side of an air vent. Luckily, they had a Plan.

"_Awooooooooooooooo_," she heard, followed shortly by a loud slam against the main door. She winced, thinking how hard Octavio must have hit to make the door shake like that.

"That's the White Wolf," one of the captives commented, smugly. "He's come for you."

"Let's see him break that door down," retorted the jaguar. "Then I'll start worrying."

"Just another wolf," the hyena said, with a hint of nervousness while picking up a walkie-talkie. "Number One," he said into the device. "Trouble outside Engineering."

"_Understood_," came the satisfied reply from the device. "_Two, Nine, and Fifteen on their way. Whatever happens, you do NOT open that door_."

"Copy," said the hyena. He looked at the captives. "Now the Colonel gets another pelt," he sneered, making himself comfortable in the Chief Engineer's seat.

_Not exactly the outcome the Plan called for_, Windbright thought, swearing under her breath.

* * *

_8:55 PM_

_Ow_, Octavio thought, picking himself off the floor. The Engineering Room door was designed to hold off a charging elephant.

A faint smile crept over his muzzle; the door had shaken satisfyingly loud. He couldn't realistically expect much more. After all, he _had_ taken quite a beating over the past few days, and he wasn't a young pup anymore.

He didn't think they would open the door. Not yet, anyway, and Windbright would take advantage if they did. _She_ firmly believed that they would, impatient as she was.

Well, he had also been impatient at her age—still was, if he were honest. Case in point: he could stay and wait for the next group of hijackers that were certainly on their way.

Or go hunt for them.

He howled again, returning to the hunt.

* * *

_8:57 PM_

Disabling the cameras on the Control Deck was a necessary evil for hijacking the airship. That allowed the hijackers to move about undetected by the flight crew until they were inside the critical areas.

The hijackers had first taken over the Communications room, which doubled as the Security room, quickly disabling communications between the other compartments.

Next had been the Engineering room, giving them full flight control of the vessel. Last was the Control room, where the senior officers and crew were stationed, coordinating the activity of the entire airship.

Disabling the cameras was a permanent affair, however. They were built and installed in such a way that temporarily disabling them was impossible, with several redundant systems in place to keep them active and tamper free. One reason most scenarios involved an inside mammal who could control the cameras while the airship was hijacked.

Obtaining the device that disabled the cameras had been pivotal to the operation. But having the cameras disabled was now also proving to be troublesome, the brown bear thought. They had no idea where the wolf was, though he had obviously wandered all over the deck, as his scent was everywhere.

The two panthers, spread out behind him, confirmed his suspicion with a nod as the bear gestured that scent-tracking was useless.

They sped up when another howl reached them from the direction of the Engineering room. The bear rounded the corner first, dart gun at the ready, only to find the passageway empty.

Running full bore towards the next intersection, he roared when it, too, proved to be empty. Turning to the panthers, he nearly choked.

"Where's Number Nine!" he bellowed at the remaining one, who turned around instantly to notice his compatriot was missing.

"Find them!" the bear roared.

* * *

_9:00 PM_

The nightclub had filled quickly after they sat down. Within minutes, the dance floor was packed with mammals of all sizes who somehow managed not to trample or be trampled on by others.

Nobody paid much attention to the four princesses sitting in the back although a few oblivious males had approached, to be politely sent on their way. There were many unattached mammals, so the rejected males quickly found interested partners, promptly forgetting about the four nervous females.

The waitress had brought kitchen knives concealed in the cloth napkin, so they were at least armed. For the two bunnies, this was a big comfort, as they lacked the natural weapons Palila and Chia possessed. As all Baratean nobles, the bunnies also had basic training on how to use them, so while they probably couldn't beat an experienced fighter, they were dangerous enough to merit caution.

"I cannot see the door anymore," Palila said with a frown. "There are too many mammals in the way."

"That means we are also harder to see from the door," Abigail commented. "Not a bad trade."

"It is only a matter of time before they realize this is our only logical hiding place," Alexandra warned.

Chia smiled. "They are searching for a group of four frightened females," she giggled. "Let us be sure they do not find them."

* * *

_9:01 PM_

The hijackers inside the Engineering room stared at each other with growing alarm, hearing the bear's angry shouts in the corridor outside.

"What should we do?" asked one of the foxes.

"_Not_ open the door," the jaguar said. "You heard the Colonel. Let the big guys deal with it; _they_ can't fly this ship. _We_ can."

"The White Wolf will be here soon enough," one of the captives said. "Enjoy your lives while they last."

"I heard the White Wolf has a rhinoceros in his Collection," another one of the captives ventured. "Killed him in ten seconds."

"I heard it was five," another one corrected. "Tore his throat right out."

"Quiet down!" bellowed the badger. "Any intelligent mammal knows a wolf can't beat a rhino."

"I have seen the White Wolf," the senior captive, a ferret, retorted. "He is as large as a bear, with fangs as long as knives, and claws the size of sickles. He will tear through that door as soon as he has dealt with your friends."

Listening through the grate, Windbright stifled a laugh at that. It sounded like kits telling stories around the campfire.

One of the captives, a bunny, turned his gaze towards the air vent, having heard her outburst. His eyes went wide for an instant. From the floor, he could see up into the angled vents of the grate, catching sight of the leopardess, though his eyesight wasn't sharp enough to identify her as a snow leopard.

But he knew there was someone behind the grate.

He discreetly pointed an ear at the grate, turning his eyes away to avoid giving away her position.

"Distract them," Windbright whispered, hoping the rabbit alone would hear, then smiled when he nodded. She prepared to make her entrance.

"Feral wolves pick off their prey one by one," the rabbit commented, sagely. "I saw it in a Nature program, once. The White Wolf is no different, you know. He will pick your friends off one at a time unless you can overwhelm him with numbers."

"That's how the Pack has controlled the Empire for so long," another prisoner piped in. "Eliminate troublesome mammals, one at a time, to avoid a mass rebellion."

"He's just a wolf," the hyena said, mostly to reassure himself. "It's all propaganda to keep the masses in line."

"_Awooooooooooooooo_," sounded another howl.

"You are running out of comrades," the rabbit lamented. "If you do not help the ones who remain, you will be next."

"I said, quiet!" the badger snarled, walking over to the rabbit. "What do you care what happens to us?"

The rabbit shrugged. "I do not," he said, indifferently. "But the crew will likely be punished for allowing your group to hijack the airship. So it is preferable for you to succeed; then, perhaps, we might avoid a trip to the slave block."

"What if he's right?" said one of the foxes. "What if the Colonel's already dead?"

The jaguar sighed, rolling his eyes. He picked up the walkie-talkie. "Number One," he called. "New orders?"

There was a brief silence. "_Stay put_," responded a different voice than before. "_Do not open the door_."

"Where's Number One?" demanded the jaguar. "What's going on?"

"_Your orders are to_ _**stay put**_**,**" the voice said, annoyed. "_Keep that door shut!_" Static followed.

"_Awooooooooooooooo_," came yet another howl.

"I suppose we will be going to the slave block after all," the rabbit said, fatalistically. The jaguar stormed over to him, coming next to the badger.

"Shut your trap!" he shouted, slapping the rabbit across the muzzle. The badger moved to restrain the feline, catching his paw and starting an argument in a language Windbright didn't know.

She decided it was as good an opportunity as she would get; she could pounce on the arguing hijackers from where she was, though it would be a difficult jump. Then the other three hijackers also started arguing amongst themselves, shouting and pointing to the compartment door, settling any doubts she had.

With no one watching the vent, the snow leopardess released the latch and pushed the grate open. The rabbit noticed the motion and bit down with his powerful front teeth on the jaguar's leg, drawing blood. The wounded mammal bellowed in pain, swiping at the rabbit with drawn claws, ripping a large gash across the lagomorph's cheek.

Windbright launched herself from the open vent with her arms, feeling something strain in the process, while the badger struggled to keep the jaguar from slashing the rabbit again. The badger caught a glimpse of the airborne leopardess, turning his head as Windbright crashed into him and the jaguar, pushing them all onto the bound crew members.

She slashed the badger's throat with her front claws while grabbing the jaguar by the neck with her jaws and burying her rear claws into the feline's belly. The badger wasn't fatally wounded, but his paws were busy keeping himself from bleeding out. The jaguar's guts spilled out, another non-fatal wound—if he received medical attention soon.

The prisoners didn't remain still. Even bound, they managed to help, holding down the wounded hijackers and taking the dart hits from the other hijackers who had stopped their argument when the rabbit bit the jaguar. Windbright sighed with relief. The dart guns were makeshift, single-shot weapons.

She roared and launched herself at the hyena, even though she was too far to reach. That scattered the hijackers but they were professionals, not panicking as she would have liked, and used to working together. Their dart guns were already reloaded and the leopardess swatted and nipped wildly at them to keep them from getting off a clean shot. Then something stung her tail and she felt numbness creeping up, though not before she took a good bite out of one of the foxes' arms.

With her hindquarters losing feeling, she caught the hyena on the flank with her teeth, ripping him to the bone and puncturing his lung. As the room went dark around her, she slashed the uninjured fox's face open from ear to muzzle, then collapsed onto the floor.

* * *

_9:05 PM_

Octavio silently closed the door of the utility closet that had concealed him, hiding the dead panther now jammed inside.

He raised his head and howled, then scampered down the hallway to his next hiding spot, a large electrical panel. He barely managed to shut the door before the bear and the remaining panther ran past. The bear was angry, not really paying attention. Even with the sharp smell of the electrical components around him, the ursine should have picked up Octavio's scent.

The panther was scared, following the lead of the bear without much thought.

Perfect.

The hijackers were heading towards the communications room, following the reasonable course of someone trying to retake the airship. Which Octavio was not trying to do—Windbright was retaking the ship.

Octavio was hunting.

He followed his prey, carefully paying attention to scents, sounds, and air currents. The bear and panther were taking turns at the lead, looking around corridors before continuing forward, expecting a trap in front of them. Not a hunter behind them.

Octavio recognized their pattern. These were soldiers, or were at one time, though now they were only mercenaries or bandits. Either way, they were predictable.

Point mammal creeps up to an intersection, quickly peeks around the corner while the one behind gives cover, then covers the side passage while the one behind takes point. About fifteen seconds. More than long enough.

Learning their timing, Octavio caught up to them, hiding around the corners they passed when the two changed positions. It could get bloody this time, as he would have to dispatch both very quickly.

The panther had only begun moving forward when Octavio turned the corner and stealthily closed the distance between them, just as the bear reached the next corridor. The bear slowed down, approaching the intersection with his dart gun at the ready, stopped, then quickly poked his head around the corner.

He was completely out of position to do anything as the wolf reached the panther and broke the feline's neck. The bear saw the panther fall, revealing the White Wolf behind him.

"Awooooooooooooooo!" Octavio howled, feigning right, as if to retreat, then leaping left instead, making the bear miss his one dart shot. Predictable.

Kicking off the wall, the wolf landed and faked a leap at the bear's face, then rolled on the floor as the ursine punched at empty air. Sliding past the bear, Octavio shot him in the neck with the panther's dart gun, carefully kept out of sight until then.

The bear's eyes rolled back into his head as he collapsed to the floor. Octavio stood up, chuckling to himself, then raised his head and howled.

* * *

_9:15 PM_

ZPD headquarters was closest to Savannah Central, so Matilda, Marcus and Chief Bogo decided to make it their Crisis Center. While the bomb on Matilda's car proved the location of ZIA's Zootopia Field Office was no longer a secret, the trio decided it best not to draw any extra attention to it: Just because one foe knew its location didn't mean they all did.

After careful consideration, they also decided that all important information would be conveyed in writing via courier. All fixed cameras and microphones would be removed from operation throughout ZPD, ZIA and ZBI buildings, and all meetings would take place within secured, inside rooms with at least two layers of offices between them and any external doors or windows.

All recordings would be done on portable, non-networked devices using optical media storage, and only battery-powered devices would be allowed within the secured rooms, even including the lights.

While the group waited for the passenger lists of the hijacked airships to be delivered by Bogo's pawpicked officers, late dinner orders were sent out and coffee was made. It would be a long night.

They were officially paranoid.

* * *

_9:16 PM_

Back in the Control Room, the polar bear ironically felt himself losing control of the situation. Half of his team was either dead or missing and that damned wolf's continued howling was driving him crazy.

To make matters worse, now the Engineering Room wasn't responding, but without Number Eight's key card they couldn't get past the security door. The bear had four mammals out looking for the missing females who had taken the key card, with orders to just report their location. He would personally lead the team to recapture them—then let's see if that wolf still likes howling.

The polar bear growled. He had gotten greedy. Belyiklyk was not on his mission parameters but an opportunity like this was hard to pass up: The ransom alone could buy him a private island off Pawaii.

The Emperor's right-paw mammal, the Heir Apparent, the richest bunny in the North, the youngest daughter of the most powerful Polar Bear Clan, and the eldest daughter of the Snow Leopard Clan. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.

Until they all got away.

The bear slammed his paw into the wall, putting a sizable dent into the metal surface and making his two subordinates in the room jump. From the corner of the room, the airship captain chuckled, the fox's left eye swollen shut from the polar bear's earlier kick.

"The White Wolf might let you live if you beg for mercy," he slurred. "He doesn't sound—too angry—yet."

"He sounds hungry," one of the other flight officers mused. "I am glad to be tied up in here."

"You're gonna to die in here," the badger hijacker said, holding up a long knife threateningly, "if you don't keep quiet."

"Better than in a wolf's belly," another crew member mumbled.

"Quiet!" the polar bear roared. "Next one to open his trap ends up in _my_ belly!"

Outside, another wolf howl rang through the corridors.

* * *

_9:20 PM_

Towel wrapped around her head, Judy stood naked in front of the closet, staring at her ZPD uniform hanging inside. From the bed, Nick admired her slim figure with a sly smile on his muzzle.

"It might still fit," he said, sounding doubtful. "You _have_ been hitting the pastries a bit hard."

"Har, har," Judy said, looking over her shoulder. "I'm not the one who had two whole pies this evening."

Nick held up his paw. "Hey," he said, self-righteously. "In case you forgot, I am recovering from a war wound. I need all the energy I can get."

"A war wound?" Judy chuckled. "You wouldn't have passed out if you'd just bandaged it before playing with Dad's water cannon."

"There was a battle raging," Nick retorted, smugly. "One mammal's needs do not outweigh the needs of the many."

Judy turned around, paws on her hips. "And that time in Tundra Town when—"

"That wasn't war," Nick asserted, wagging a finger. "Completely different."

"I see," she said. "So in the interests of 'healing,' I better sleep on the floor tonight—I would hate for you to squander your energy on hedonistic carnal pleasures."

"_That_ would actually be considered physical therapy," Nick said, matter-of-factly while holding up his fingers. "Good cardio workout, promote the flow of endorphins, keep the various muscle groups stretched. An 'energy multiplier' one might say."

"And, we bunnies _are_ good at multiplying," Judy admitted, walking over to kiss him. "Ready for your therapy session?"

* * *

_9:24 PM_

The mountain lion wore an off-duty crew uniform with a cap to cover the bloody bandage over his missing ear. He'd heard the Colonel's orders, but if he found those bitches he wouldn't waste time calling for backup. He would kill them.

He had a strong hunch where they would be. If he was trying to hide, he would try to find somewhere he could remain inconspicuous. Somewhere he could lose himself in the crowd.

Somewhere like a nightclub.

The others looking for the females had strongly disagreed with him about this. They believed the missing hostages would be huddling inside one of the lavatories or empty cabins, so he had left them to do his own search. He didn't believe these females would be cowering in fear. No. These were arrogant ones. They wouldn't sit still and be inconvenienced by anyone. This kind believed they could control everything around them.

He stood before the entrance, looking down at the raccoon who moved aside submissively. The music inside wasn't so loud as to be unpleasant, at least with the crew cap on, and it was dark enough to encourage pairing up without much self-consciousness. A typical nightclub.

He would play it cool. Relax a bit, twirl his way onto the dance floor, not actively look for anyone. Just be an off-duty crew member blowing off steam.

It was a free-for-all under the multicolored disco lights, everyone dancing with everyone. The scents were more intoxicating than the drinks and it took an effort not to be distracted while casually scanning the room. He was an attractive male in very good shape; the females responded accordingly.

Felines, canines, bovines, equines, it didn't matter. Filled with young Zootopians, species mingled freely in here. The mountain lion soon found himself grinding against the rump of a deer, then was pulled away by mare breathing hotly against his neck. She shamelessly cupped his crotch, her hoof surprisingly supple and arousing to him. In return, his paws took hold of her hips then ran firmly up under her tail.

A soft winny and a wink, then she was off to the next male. Spinning right into her place, a lithe canine nestled against him, her rump grinding into his crotch. Her arms were raised, paws clasped over her head, hips swaying to the hypnotic beat of the music. The mountain lion ran his paws up her waist, coming around to cup her breasts. She didn't pull away, instead bringing her arms down over his, then leading him off the dance floor, the motion of her hips becoming more openly suggestive as they reached a relatively secluded corner in the rear of the club.

He had never considered mating with another species before. Sure, he did find the occasional non-feline attractive, but it had never crossed his mind to actually couple with one of them. Until now. The music, the pheromones, the dancing. He had completely forgotten why he was really in the club, with the canine, leaning forward with her face against the wall, occupying all his attention.

He gripped her hips, pulling himself against her greedily. That's when another set of paws wrapped around his waist. Very large paws.

"Hello, handsome," Palila growled into his good ear, digging her claws into his stomach hard enough to break through clothes and skin. "We have not been formally introduced."

The mountain lion tried to break away, only digging the claws deeper into his flesh. Swallowing hard, he stopped struggling. The canine turned around to face him, a mischievous smile on her face. What truly caught his attention was the coldness in the wolfess' eyes, in such contrast to the lovely face.

"Did you really expect a wolfess to give herself to you that easily?" Chia giggled, then stood tippy-toe to whisper into his ear. "Especially after you kill a loyal subject of mine?" She pushed Palila's claws deeper into his flesh, then ran her paws caressingly up his chest. Finding the dart gun concealed inside his vest pocket, she pulled it out and shot him in the groin.

* * *

_9:25 PM_

Windbright came to, the familiar dry mouth from being tranqd cautioning her against opening her eyes or moving. Surprisingly, she wasn't tied up.

"Are you alright, m'lady?" came the voice she recognized as belonging to the senior captive. "We have control of the room again, thanks to you. Where are the other members of your team?"

That question made her smile. "Last I knew," she said, groggily, opening her eyes, "howling in the corridors. How long have I been out?"

"About twenty minutes," the ferret answered. "The dart tip went clean through your tail."

"How is your crew doing?" she asked. "Can they fly the ship?"

"Only Charles was injured," he told her, pointing to the wounded hare. "We bandaged his face. Four others are sleeping off darts, but we can operate the vessel. We have not resumed course to Aurora."

"Have the hijackers tried to get back in?"

"No, m'lady. And we have not replied to their attempts at communication."

"Good. Let them think only comms are down."

"Does the White Wolf have a plan?" the ferret asked, hopefully.

Windbright smiled ferally at the sound of a wolf howl outside. "Hunt," she said.

* * *

_9:30 PM_

That made seven Octavio thought to himself with satisfaction, looking down at the two wolves lying dead at his feet. He was disappointed a wolf would have the disrespect to oppose him. Even in Zootopia, wolves had deferred to him. Perhaps they were simply smarter than these mercenaries.

He had, at least, managed to get these two to reveal the hijackers were a band of Nines ex-military, following the lead of a disgraced polar bear colonel named Quassy. Octavio recalled the name from a failed border incursion into Baratea several years ago. Nines had denied responsibility to the Council of Mammals, surrendering the shackled colonel to the Mammal High Court in order to avoid sanctions.

Had the colonel succeeded in capturing the key mountain passes to the rich mines south of Aurora, the bear would have been a national hero. Nines would have laughed at the idea of sanctions, knowing they would never pass while they controlled the main source of strategic minerals on the continent.

Such was the price of failure.

Or, sometimes, he thought wryly about his own situation, success.

The faint tap of a claw touching the floor was all the warning he had. Leaping high in a backwards flip, the clink of a dart striking the wall told him he had barely escaped capture. Pushing off hard against the ceiling, he felt another dart brushing past his nape, then he hit the floor facing a badger and an open-muzzled fox. He landed off balance, teetering towards the two hijackers, who threw down their weapons and fled down the corridor screaming in terror.

Octavio threw back his head and howled. Only to be caught from behind in the iron grip of a polar bear hug.

"I should have come after you myself from the beginning," the leader of the hijackers growled, squeezing hard enough that Octavio couldn't breathe. "I hear you have mated with that small polar bear sow," the bear sneered, squeezing harder. "I will have to work hard to remove your stench from her. Then, I think I will try mating with a wolfess. And I have the perfect white bitch in mind."

* * *

_9:45 PM_

The communications room door thundered with a powerful knock. The jaguar in charge of the hijackers' communications team looked up in surprise from the main console.

"Is it that damned wolf again?" he said, annoyed. His second, a coyote, went and looked through the peephole.

"It's the Colonel," he said, worriedly. "He looks injured."

"Open the door," the cougar ordered, standing up and grabbing a first aid kit. The coyote turned the lock, then was thrown back by the swinging door.

The chewed-off head of the colonel bounced into the compartment, leaving a bloody trail and coming to a squishy halt face up against the far wall. Chest heaving, covered in blood and gashes, Octavio stood in the doorway, muzzle twitching and salivating. His pupils were feral, fully dilated, and a low growl rumbled menacingly from his throat.

Without hesitation, the hijackers threw themselves down to the floor, covering their heads with their paws to avoid the gaze of the White Wolf.

The bound crew members inside broke out in cheers.

* * *

_9:58 PM_

The vixen waitress approached Chia, who sat humming on one side of the unconscious mountain lion. Palila sat on the other side, propping him up as one would an intoxicated friend.

"Your Highness," said the vixen, urgently. "You are needed in the infirmary, right away."

Chia smiled at the vixen. "Is everything back to normal, then?" she asked, sweetly.

"The Captain is back in charge," the waitress replied with a nod. "But there are several injured, including your husband."

The wolfess let out an exasperated sigh. "I told them to be careful," she said, frowning. "But, I suppose all is well that ends well." She stood up, with the now unsupported mountain lion slumping face forward onto the table with a dull thud. "Shall we go comfort our husband, ladies?"

"What about this one?" Alexandra asked, looking at the mountain lion with open hatred.

"I suppose we could kill him," Chia reasoned, then pouted. "Though your father may have some questions or such for him." She thought for a moment, then grabbed the remaining darts she had taken from the mountain lion and jabbed them into his back. She smiled at the waitress. "If he wakes, you may kill him," she cheerfully told the vixen, then to the others, "Ready? Our lord awaits."

* * *

_10:03 PM_

Chief Bogo's secure phone lit up on the table with an incoming call. Matilda and Marcus stared at the device vibrating urgently against the Chief's oversized coffee mug while the water buffalo pointedly ignored it.

"Well?" Marcus said, finally. "I don't think they would go against orders without a good reason."

The chief harumphed, reluctantly grabbing the phone and putting it on speaker. "This had better be good, Wolfard," he grumbled.

_"Yes, Chief,"_ came the reply. _"I thought you might want to hear this: Five of the six hijacked airships vanished from radar; the other one has resumed course."_

"Vanished?" said the Chief. "What does that mean? Airships don't just disappear."

_"There one moment, gone the next,"_ the officer said. _"One of the senior controllers said it looked like they broke up in mid air. The supervisor disagreed, though."_

"Which flight resumed course?" Matilda asked.

_"BA1362,"_ Wolfard told them. _"They confirm the hijacking and report their on-board security team handled it with no passenger fatalities. They will take the surviving hijackers to Aurora for the Baratean authorities."_

"How many surviving hijackers?" Marcus said. "Did they give any details?"

_"No details beyond that, sir,"_ Wolfard said. _"Should I wait here for more information?"_

"Stay there for now," Chief Bogo said. "See if they can figure out what happened to the other airships."

_"Will do, sir,"_ came the reply, then the line went dead.

"Assume they exploded?" Matilda suggested.

"But why not the last one?" Marcus said.

"Failed suicide mission?" Bogo wondered. "Many of the events today appear to have been carried out by suicide squads."

"Or idiots," Matilda added, recalling the Chief's account of his afternoon's experience with the Mayor.

A knock on the door preceded the entrance of Officer Pennington. "I have the passenger lists from the hijacked airships," she announced.

"Set them on the table, Francine," Chief Bogo said. "That should do it for tonight, thank you."

"Yes, sir," the elephant said, placing several folders on the table, then leaving.

"Do we still need these?" Marcus said, opening one of the folders. Chief Bogo picked up another one.

"It never hurts to cover all the bases," he grumbled. Matilda ground her teeth and grabbed a third one.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**That was long… I truly hope you enjoyed it. I cut it off, as otherwise it would be another 10K words, and it has been quite the while since the last update.**

**What sinister plan is unfolding?**

**Keep tuned…**

**I really will try to speed things up.**

**Everyone, keep safe during these troubling times.**

**Until next time,**

**Thanks for reading!**


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